


The Song Remains the Same

by claro



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babies, Loss, Love, M/M, Mpreg, termination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:11:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 21,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claro/pseuds/claro
Summary: Two years ago Mycroft pressured Greg into an abortion and they haven't spoken since. Now Greg's going it alone and Mycroft finally realises what he's missing.





	1. Chapter 1

'Wine?' Mycroft asked, already reaching for Greg's glass. But Greg shook his head.

'No. Not right now.'

'Would you rather have scotch?'

'No.' Greg took a breath and beckoned for Mycroft to sit, 'I need to tell you something.'

'Gregory?'

'I'm pregnant.'

Mycroft leaned back in his seat, 'Pregnant?'

Greg nodded, smiling across the table at the redhead, 'Yeah. It's, um, well it's not exactly how I planned on telling you, but-'

'I don't want it.'

'...what?'

'I'll get Anthea to arrange an appointment for you and then-'

'What do you mean?'

'It's a simple procedure.'

'You...you want me to...'

'Of course.' Mycroft took a sip of his wine, 'Children have never been an ambition of mine, and at our age it would be foolish to even consider them. A termination it really the best option.'

'...right.' Greg stood up.

'Gregory-'

'Goodnight, Mycroft.'

 

#

Mycroft was right. It was a simple and painless procedure. In less than an hour he was on his way home, but he already knew that nothing would be the same again.

#

'Gregory?' Mycroft pushed open the door, already on edge. He hadn't spoken to Greg in almost a week, but whatever he'd been expecting it wasn;'t the pale and quiet man sitting on the sofa. Greg looked up at him, brown eyes hooded with exhaustion.

'Go away.'

'Gregory-'

'Go away!'

'But-'

'Go!'

Mycroft took a deep breath, 'Gregory, please-'

'I don't want to see you any more,' Greg's voice was quiet, 'Just leave me alone.'

Mycroft nodded, just once, and then left. It would be almost two years before he saw Gregory Lestrade again.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft bit his lip and stared at the name on his phone screen. But he didn't answer the call. Instead he let it ring out for the second time. He was still wondering why Lestrade was calling him when Anthea marched into his office and thrust her mobile towards him.

'Mycroft Holmes,' he said, although he already knew who it was.

'About bloody time,' Greg snarled, 'Stop avoiding me you prat and get your ass down here to collect your brother before he ends up with a life sentence.'

Mycroft sighed, 'What has he done now?'

'It would be easier to explain what he hasn't done,' Greg snapped and cut the call.

 

#

 

Mycroft had watched Greg from afar since Greg left him. They hadn't spoken, but Mycroft had wanted to. He'd watched Gregory lose weight, become tired and ill, and slowly watched him recover again, finally returning to the smiling man he had once been.

He nodded at Mycroft when the politican entered his office and wordlessly led him to the holding cells where Sherlock was ranting about his human rights.

'How complicated is this going to be?' Mycroft asked.

Greg sighed, 'We haven't charged him. Just...just take him away. Oh, and he's banned from Tesco.'

'Again?'

Greg shrugged and unlocked the cell door, 'Go home, Sherlock.'

'Do I have to?'

'Well you can stay here if you really want.'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the policeman and then stalked past him, leaving Mycroft and Greg standing awkwardly beside each other.

'Thank you, Gregory.'

Greg nodded and started to turn away.

'You're looking well,' Mycroft said suddenly.

'I-'

'It's good to see you,' and then Mycroft was leaving. It would be six weeks before Greg would see him again.

 

#

 

He'd been on duty for sixteen hours straight when the delivery driver walked through the door.

'Lestrade?' he called across the floor.

Greg looked up and took the bags from him.

'I didn't order-'

'Some posh bloke called it in. It's paid for and all.'

Greg waited until the delivery guy left before he looked into the bag. And then he smiled. Chicken shashlick, pillau rice, lemon salad and a peshwari naan. It was like Mycroft could read his mind.

#

'Thank you.'

Mycroft bit his lip to stop himself smiling at the text.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg sighed as the black car pulled up to his crime scene, but for the first time in two years the sight of that car didn't fill him with as much annoyance as it once had. Instead he nodded politely to Mycroft and then went about his business as the man spoke with his brother.

He didn't hear what words were said to start the argument, but suddenly John Watson was yelling at Sherlock and steering him away from the politician. Mycroft watched them go with pursed lips and then suddenly and without warning he lifted his gaze and met Greg's.

Greg swallowed, caught off guard and slightly flustered under that penetrating stare, but he forced himself to stay calm and took a few steps towards Mycroft, stopping further away from him than was really necessary.

'What was all that about?'

'Sherlock being Sherlock,' Mycroft pulled a face, 'He's upset Mummy again.'

Greg had never admitted to Mycroft even when they were dating, but there was something rather adorable about the fact that the most powerful man in the country still referred to his mother as 'Mummy.'

'Ah well, so long as he's not sniffing coke or throwing himself of buildings again.'

'Quite, although when Mummy is finished with him jumping of a building might look like quite a good idea,' Mycroft's look turned darker, 'If someone doesn't push him first.'

Greg's laugh seemed to surprise Mycroft, hell, it surprised Greg.

'Come on, you'd miss him if he wasn't there.'

Mycroft gave Greg a strange look as if considering those words, then he nodded, 'Probably.'

'Yeah, well I should get back to work.'

'Of course. As always it was a pleasure to see you, Gregory.'

'Hmm,' was Greg's only reply as he started to walk away.

'Gregory?' Mycroft's voice came out slightly more rushed than normal, which was the only reason Greg turned around.

'Yeah?'

'I just...wondered if perhaps you might like to come to dinner with me?'

A dozen different emotions flooded Greg at once, and he'd be lying to himself if he said that pleasure wasn't one of them, but so were other, less positive emotions that he always associated with Mycroft and which no amount of pleasure or excitement, or even lust, were ever going to override. He shook his head.

'I don't think that's a good idea. I'll see you around, Mycroft,' he said and walked off before either he or Mycroft could say anything else.


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft hated social functions when there was no one of interest worth manipulating, or at the very least the opportunity for some complex political negotiations that always went better when accompanied by liberal amounts of brandy.

He'd spent the last forty seven minutes making forced small talk with a number of senior officials and back benchers and avoiding the misguided flirtations of a junior cabinet minister who had developed an increasingly embarrassing and inconvenient infatuation with Mycroft that was reaching the point where the politician was wondering if it was time to have the man dealt with.

The other man had gone so far as to slip his card into Mycroft's pocket, which, aside from being an invasion of Mycroft's personal space, also angered him that the younger man had been able to do it without Mycroft noticing. He curled his lip at the forwardness and wondered if he was starting to slip.

'You look like you've just licked the piss of a nettle.'

Mycroft froze at the voice behind him, refusing to acknowledge the single thump in his chest, and then composing himself he looked across the table to the other man who was watching him with an amused smile.

'What a turn of phrase you have, Gregory.'

Greg Lestrade just shrugged, that smile still in place, but not enough to hide his discomfort.

'I must say,' Mycroft said, 'You are the last person I expected to see here.'

'You saying I'm not good enough for your fancy parties?'

'No! No that's not what I...' Mycroft trailed off, noticing the glint in the other man's eyes, Gregory was clearly enjoying his discomfort, 'Actually the last person I would expect to see here would be my dear brother.'

'Well, buck up, because last I saw him he was explaining to the cello player how the first violin was embezzling a quarter of their income.'

Mycroft felt himself visibly pale and he immediately looked around, rapidly scanning the room until his eyes met Gregory's once again. Gregory who wasn't even trying to hide his laughter. Mycroft relaxed and frowned.

'That was rather mean.'

'Hmm,' was all Gregory said, and then he looked at his watch before glancing around the room.

'Are you waiting for someone?' Mycroft asked, and was surprised at how much he hoped the answer was a no.

'Counting down the minutes until I can leave. The super's promised me no night shifts for a month if I came here to represent homicide and SCD.'

'How long did you have to promise to stay for?'

'One hour,' Greg replied, setting his untouched glass down on the table and smiling again, 'And that's my time up, so I'm off home.'

'Must you? The people here are insufferable enough as it is.'

'You don't need me to protect you from the nobs, Myc.'

The casual use of the nickname he hadn't heard in several years caused a slight contraction in his chest and he suddenly, desperately didn't want Gregory to leave. Not like this, with just a few lines exchanged between them, distance and light as if they were nothing more than old aquaintences. 

Which is what they were, Mycroft realised sadly. They had never really been anything more to begin with. Or at least that's what he'd told himself. It's what he'd told Gregory too.

'In that case may I offer you a lift home?'

Gregory seemed to hesitate for a second and then he nodded, 'Alright. Saves me having to get the tube dressed like this.'

'It's not one of your best looks,' Mycroft admitted.

'Oi, you're supposed to tell me I cut a dashing figure, not dent my confidence,' but there was no malice in his words and the argument was an old one.

They were almost out of the hall when a smaller, thinner man appeared with an eager expression.

'Leaving so soon, Mycroft?'

'Alas, Jeremy I have other more pressing matters to attend to.'

It was then that the junior minister who had been trailing Mycroft like a puppy for months cut a sideways glance towards Gregory, who was doing a very poor job of pretending he wasn't listening.

'I see,' the man's voice was distinctly colder for a moment, and then he seemed to make a conscious effort to lay on the charm again, 'Perhaps dinner later in the week? We can discuss that new -'

'Perhaps,' Mycroft said, cutting him off and already knowing that he had no intention of having dinner with the man that week or any other. Before another word could be said Mycroft led Greg out of the hall and towards the drive where his driver was waiting.

'Boyfriend?' Gregory asked too casually.

'Oh Lord no! The man is an insufferable tit.'

'He fancies you though.'

'So?'

Greg shrugged, 'Just saying.'

He reached for the door handle at the same time as Mycroft stretched to open it for him and ended up caught between Mycroft and the car, just inches apart.

And abruptly the mood changed. They were closer than they had been for years. In truth it was closer than Mycroft had been to anyone for years and he could feel Gregory's breath against his cheek.

'Gregory...' he began but then realised that he had no idea how to finish that sentence.

Instead he leaned forward just slightly until he was almost touching Gregory and just breathed in his scent.

'Mycroft, please...don't....'

Mycroft swallowed by didn't move, unsure if he could bring himself to move away. He closed his eyes and shifted slightly so his nose grazed lightly across Gregory's jaw. The other man's breath was ragged now.

'Please don't,' he repeated.

'Why not?' Mycroft asked, his lips brushing against the skin of Gregory's cheek.

'...because I don't think I'd be able to say no.'

But as Gregory said it he turned his head slightly, and then he was kissing Mycroft back. Slow and gentle and cautious as if they'd never done this before.

And just as abruptly Gregory stepped sharply away to the side, his face flushed and with an expression that was partly anger and partly confusion. Mycroft didn't move, instead biting his lip hard to stop himself from saying something.

'I should go,' Gregory said, already moving away.

'I though you were-'

'The tube's faster,' he said.

'But it's almost midnight. You shouldn't be taking the tube on your own.'

Gregory looked at him sadly, and then tried to smile, 'I don't think I should be getting into a car with you right now either. I'll see you, Myc.'

And before Mycroft could respond, Gregory was already walking away towards the station, pulling off his bow tie as he walked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the delay I have been horrifically ill lately and basically unconcious for most of it. Still. Here we go

When Greg opened his front door the last person he expected to see standing on the landing was Mycroft Holmes. What made it all the more surprising was that the man looked uncharacteristically nervous.

'What do you want?'

Mycroft licked his lips, 'May I come in?'

'Why?'

'Gregory, please?'

Greg sighed and stepped aside to let him in. Mycroft stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room. Greg had always hated and been embarrassed by the way Mycroft's presence made his small, but neat flat look old and cheap.

'Alright,' he folded his arms and looked expectantly at Mycroft, 'So what do you want?'

Mycroft turned his umbrella, 'I wanted to apologise for last night. I was out of order.'

'Yeah, you were.'

There was silence for a few seconds.

'Is that all?' Greg was trying not to soften, he couldn't afford to let himself get sucked back into Mycroft's net, which, after their most recent encounters seemed to be something Mycroft was aiming for.

'...yes,' Mycroft looked momentarily dejected as he turned to the door, 'Actually, no.'

He stared at Greg and then cleared his throat before speaking.

'I wondered if you might...possibly...find your way to forgiving me for what happened. And...and if there was any way I could convince you to...'

'To what?' Greg asked, trying to ignore the way his heart started to beat just that little bit faster, and hating himself for the effect that Mycroft continued to have on him.

'To...to giving me another chance.'

Mycroft looked startled by Greg's burst of laughter.

'You have some front, asking me that. Get out of my flat.'

For a moment it looked like Mycroft was about to flee, but then he took a step closer to Greg.

'Gregory, please. I and truly, honestly sorry.'

'Do you remember what you said to me? How you looked at me?'

'Yes, and it's the biggest regret of my life.'

Greg narrowed his eyes at Mycroft's words, his heart racing for another reason altogether now.

'I was so fucking in love with you!' he shouted, 'I was....fuck, I was excited about telling you and you....you offered to make the appointment for me. No discussion, no emotion, nothing. You didn't eve...I went through that all on my own and you didn't even have the decency to send me so much as a fucking text! And THEN you land at my door as if I would be pleased to see you!'

Greg swayed slightly at the force of his own words and Mycroft was at his side in a second, steering him to the sofa where they sat side by side. Greg dropped his gaze to his knees, humiliated at once again being weak in front of Mycroft.

'Why would you think I did not love you in return?' Mycroft said softly, 'Because I did. Very much.'

Before Greg could speak Mycroft gently lifted Greg's chin and turned his face towards him.

'I still do.'

Greg didn't know whether to kiss the man or punch him. So he did neither, instead sitting in silence, the whole conversation too bizarre for him to fully absorb.

'All I'm asking is that you give me a chance,' Mycroft said softly, 'To prove that I'm sorry. That I love you and I would do anything, anything to make you happy.'

And those were the words that Greg had longed to hear two years ago. But...

'No,' he whispered.

If Greg had ever had to imagine what it was like to watch someone's heart break, the expression on Mycroft's face would have been it.

'Just think about it,' Mycroft pleaded, 'I need to know that there's a chance that you'll-'

'I can't.'

'Gregory-'

'I'm pregnant.'


	6. Chapter 6

Pregnant.

Mycroft's hand shook as he lifted the glass to his lips once more. His Gregory was pregnant.

No.

Not HIS Gregory. He was someone else's Gregory now. Carrying someone else's baby. Not Mycroft's. Not this time. Mycroft had his chance and he'd thrown it away because he was frightened. And now Gregory was giving someone else that chance. He'd chosen...someone else.

The cheap whisky burned his throat but that didn't stop him pouring another glass. It was nowhere close to the quality of his usual choice, but it was the brand that Gregory had always had in stock in the past, his policeman's salary not quite stretching to eight hundred pound bottles of scotch. The bottle Mycroft was intent on emptying had been lurking at the back of his drinks cabinet for two years. He couldn't even remember how it ended up there, but somehow it had found it's way into his hand before he all but collapsed into his armchair.

Since that day Gregory had told him he didn't want to see him again, Mycroft had tried hard not to think too much about the man. He'd pushed his personal feelings as deep as he could, refusing to acknowledge them let alone deal with them. But somewhere in the back of his mind was always the thought that it was his Gregory.

He'd never imagined that Gregory would move on.

Of course, the logical part of him knew that it would happen. A man like Gregory Lestrade was never going to be single for long. He'd have options. Better options than a man like Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft had always known he wasn't good enough for the policeman. He'd always known that Gregory deserved better and would leave him. So he'd held him at arms length and done his best to ignore his own feelings, knowing that he didn't deserve the affection and that one day Gregory would realise that too.

He'd called it self preservation. 

Mycroft laughed into his glass. Well just look how that had worked out. He'd pushed away the only man he'd ever loved and now he was sitting alone in the dark feeling sorry for himself because Gregory was finally getting the love he deserved from someone else.

He hadn't even managed to say anything. He'd just nodded and fled Gregory's flat, only half aware of the other man calling his name.

Closing his eyes Mycroft silently berated himself for losing his composure like that, for not being able to pull himself together enough to even utter a congratulations.

And so he drank until he couldn't remember why he was drinking and the darkness closed in around him again.

He woke up shortly before six am, showered and dressed as normal, albeit more slowly, and made his way to the office. He drank his tea, read his emails and scanned the files Anthea had left on his desk.

He refused to think about Gregory Lestrade.


	7. Chapter 7

Lestrade turned the card over in his hands once more. Thick cream card, an embossed M on one side. On the other...well...

'Sincere congratulations'

He wasn't sure what to think. It was over two years since he'd broken up with Mycroft. Two years since they'd had anything approaching a conversation. And now there was an enormous bunch of flowers in his office.

Greg stared at them for a long time, then he pulled his phone out of his jacket.

'Thank you.' he texted and then set the phone back down.

He stared at the phone for a long time, almost expecting a response. But none came.

'Why are you smiling?'

Sherlock dropped into the seat opposite Greg and frowned.

'Hello to you too.'

'Why are you smiling?' Sherlock repeated.

'Why shouldn't I smile?'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, 'Where you texting Mycroft?'

'Why is that your business?'

'So you were!'

'Fuck off Sherlock!'

'Does he know you're pregnant?'

'Yes.'

'And?'

'And what?'

Sherlock sighed, 'So what does he think?'

Greg shrugged, 'What does it matter. He's not part of my life now.'

'He wants to be.'

'What?'

Sherlock sighed again, 'Don't make me repeat myself.'

'But you said-'

'I didn't say anything you don't already know. He's not good for you.'

'I know.'

But you'd take him back?'

Greg laughed, 'I didn't say that.'

'You didn't have to. Although I'd appreciate it if you did.'

'You betting against John again?'

'That's...beside the point.'

Greg smirked and then sighed, 'Look, I'm not sleeping with your brother again.'

'You said that last time.'

'Well I mean it this time.' Greg laughed, 'Look at me, Sherlock. It might have escaped your notice but I'm pregnant and I'm not exactly keen to let your brother break my heart.'

'Again.'

'Again.'

'Alright.'

'Alright?'

'That's what I said.'

'Right. Fine. I...Sherlock why are you here?'

'I....'

'You?'

Sherlock stood up and glared down at Greg, 'I'm leaving.'

Greg held back his laughter until he was certain Sherlock was out of earshot. He certainly hadn't expected the consulting detective to warn him away from Mycroft. Although it would have been more appreciated if he'd decided to play the protective brother role four years ago.

Greg glanced at the flowers again.

'Bollocks!'

#

'I'm not finished with the Winter's report yet and can you arrange for someone to - Gregory! You're not Anthea!'

'Nope.'

Mycroft was on his feet, 'Can I get you anything? Coffee? No. Not coffee, all the caffeine..., I...tea! I have herbal! Peppermint?'

'We both know you wouldn't know where to find tea bags.'

'I...' Mycroft ducked his head as Gregory laughed.

'Are you going to ask me why I'm here?'

Mycroft didn't say anything, instead he stared at his desk. When he didn't respond Gregory sat down in the chair opposite him.

'Thank you for the flowers.'

'That's my plea-'

'I'm not seeing anyone.'

Mycroft blinked hard, 'Pardon?'

'I'm not seeing anyone.'

'But you're-'

'Pregnant? Yeah, I noticed.' Greg sighed, 'I wanted it. I didn't realise how much I wanted a baby until....so I saved and I booked the appointment, picked a donor and...well...'

'You...? Oh.'

'Surprised?'

'Slightly. I-'

'Listen, Mycroft. I'm telling you because if I don't then Sherlock will. And while I don't think I owe you shit, I didn't want your brother to be the one to tell you. So no, I'm not seeing anyone and no, I'm not interested in finding someone. We'll be fine, me and her.'

'Her?'

Gregory blushed, 'Yeah.'

'You're having a girl?'

The policeman nodded.

'Congratu-'

'Oh fuck off!' Gregory replied, but he was smiling when he said it, 'So you can stop feeling bad about kissing me.'

'I-'

'And I'll stop feeling bad about liking it.'

There was silence in the room and Greg nodded, 'See you later, Myc.'

By the time Mycroft pulled himself together, Gregory had left.Mycroft sat back down in his chair and tried to think through what he'd just been told. Eventually he stopped and pulled out his phone. He stared at Gregory's name for a long time before he pressed the call button.

'Myc?'


	8. Chapter 8

'Is everything okay?' Mycroft looked worried when Greg took his seat.

'Just wondering how I let you talk me into these things.'

'I...' Mycroft coughed and lowered his voice, not wanting to draw too much attention to them in the busy dining room, 'If you are uncomfortable we can go somewhere else. Somewhere less crowded.'

Greg shook his head, 'It's fine.' then he bit his lip in embarrassment, 'I've been craving this duck cassoulet for months. Mum tried to teach me to make it, but it was never the same. I think they must put crack in it or something.'

'I did wonder why you suggested meeting here, you were never particularly fond of the Diogenes.'

Greg shrugged and speared another bean with his fork, 'Why wouldn't I like being surrounded by chinless cabinet ministers banging on about their Eaton days and tutting when I don't use the correct fork?'

At that Mycroft laughed, trying to disguise it by taking another sip of his wine. It wouldn't do to be seen giggling in the dining room of the most exclusive club in Europe.

'So why did you want to see me, Myc?' Greg asked him directly, immediately causing Mycroft to stop laughing, 'You said you had something to talk about, and I assume it's not Sherlock.'

'Oh, must we ruin a nice lunch by talking about my brother?'

'We could ruin a nice lunch by having me throw mine at you if you don't get to the point.'

Mycroft took a deep breath and nodded, setting down his glass and considering Greg before speaking again.

'I wanted to check that you were okay.'

'I'm fine.'

'Having a...having a baby is a life changing event even without doing it on your own.'

'Kind of aware of that, Myc.' Greg was looking down at his plate, no longer interested in eating it, instead just pushing around pieces of meat with his fork.

'Have you got everything in place? You'll need leave and-'

'It's fine.'

'If you need more time off I can speak with-'

'I don't need you to fight my corner on this.'

Mycroft nodded again, 'I simply meant...well, if there's anything I can do to help, anything at all...if you need anything then...'

Greg lifted his head and looked directly at Mycroft for the first time in several minutes.

'Why would I need anything from you?'

'I simply meant-'

'I know what you meant, Mycroft!' Greg hissed, 'And I'm not interested in helping you cope with whatever guilt you're trying to get over. So take your help and your concern and shove it up your arse!'

With a screech Greg pushed his chair back, and every head in the dining room turned to look.

'Thank you for lunch, Mr Holmes, but I'm afraid I must return to work. Good afternoon.'

Before Mycroft could say anything Greg was striding out of the room. Mycroft waited until the other diners had turned their attention back to their own meals, prudently deciding that staring at Mycroft or even acknowledging what they had just seen would not be a healthy choice, and then Mycroft poured himself another large glass of wine.


	9. Chapter 9

The main office was eerily quiet despite being full of officers, all with their heads bent over their desks, desperately avoiding eye contract with their angry, hormonal and very pregnant DI. The silence was the only reason Greg was alerted to the arrival of Sherlock and John, the sound of Donvan's swearing filling the air as the two men swept past. Well, as Sherlock swept past and John struggled to keep up with the taller man.

'Go away,' Greg said as soon as Sherlock opened the door, without knocking obviously.

'I need access to the evidence room.'

'Hell no.'

'Lestrade-'

'Come on Greg, it's important,' John pleaded, looking serious and exhausted.

'Why?'

'So he can finish this case and I can go home to bed.'

'Not my problem. You need the DCI's say so now.'

'What?' Sherlock and John protested at once.

Greg raised his hands, 'Not my problem, Sherlock.'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stared hard at Greg before turning on his heel and storming out of the room again, shouting for Dimmock, and leaving John standing alone in the middle of Greg's glass walled office.

'Sorry about him,' John said.

'Hmm,' was all Greg responded, already pulling another file towards himself.

'You alright?'

'Fine,' Greg snapped more forcefully than he intended. John looked surprised but didn't say anything about it.

'Sherlock said you say Mycroft....' he trailed off. It wasn't quite a question.

'Yes.'

'It's none of my business, but maybe-'

'You're right John, it's none of your business.'

John licked his lips and nodded, 'I just don't think it's a good idea for you to-'

'I said it was none of your business, John.' Greg didn't lift his gaze from the file he was still pretending to read.

'Are you getting back together?'

'John!' Greg shouted, finally looking up at the doctor, face red with anger and embarrassment.

'Alright,' John held up his hands, 'You know what you are doing.'

'I'm not doing anything!'

'Sherlock said you were on a date with Mycroft,' John took a step back towards the door, wary now of Greg's anger.

'I wasn't on a date!' Greg stood up.

'But-'

'Sherlock was wrong.'

'Was he?'

'Yes. Despite what you might believe he is wrong occasionally.'

'So you aren't back with Mycroft?'

'No!'

Out of the corner of his eye Greg could see several officers turn to look at the source of the shouting. John apparently noticed too because he shifted uncomfortably and nodded.

'Okay,' he said quietly.

'Good,' Greg took a deep breath, 'The very last thing I am going to do is get back with Mycroft.'

He didn't tell John what Mycroft had said when he came to Greg's flat, and he didn't tell John that he'd thought of little else for the last few days.

There was a shout from the other end of the office and Greg's phone started to ring.

'I should go and see what he's doing,' John said.

Greg glanced out into the office and nodded, 'Yeah, Dimmock looks like he's about to cry.'

'Again? For fuck sake!' John yanked the door open again, 'See you later, Greg.'

After John left, Greg went back to work, still unable to shake the irritation that had been simmering since his lunch at the Diogenes. He sighed and shifted slightly in his seat, more uncomfortable now than he had every felt in his life. He was going to have to buy bigger clothes soon, even his largest trousers were starting to feel tight. It was another expense he could really do without, despite the uncharacteristically healthy bank balance after two years of saving every penny he could, he was all too aware how expensive a baby was going to be, especially when he was on leave after she arrived.

With a sigh he opened the spreadsheet he'd put together to keep track of his finances to work out how he could buy what he needed without taking too much of a hit elsewhere. He ran his eye down the list of things he'd put together and the row of ticks beside many of them. He'd known it would be expensive, but he hadn't anticipated exactly how expensive babygros could be. The insemination had cost him more than he'd expected too, but it was worth it, heartburn, exhaustion and the invasiveness of every test and procedure he'd endured to get to that point.

Giving up smoking and alcohol had saved him a small fortune, but unfortunately takeaways had also become an unjustifiable luxury.

'It's worth it,' he thought, shifting again as the baby moved.

The door to his office opened again and he sighed as he closed down the spreadsheet.

'I don't want to hear it,' he warned, 'If you tell me I'll have to arrest him again.'

'That won't be necessary, Gregory,' said Mycroft.


	10. Chapter 10

'Oh god, not you too!'

It was rare that Mycroft looked lost for words, and despite his frustration Greg took a second to enjoy the image.

'Well?' he asked, 'What do you want?'

Mycroft proffered a bag that smelled glorious to the hungry Greg, making him painfully aware how long it had been since the pitiful doughnut he'd managed to wolf into him between calls.

'I thought you might be hungry and....and you said you'd been craving it.'

When Greg didn't take the bag Mycroft set it one the edge of Greg's desk. Greg didn't have to look to see what it was, he could smell it and every hormone and sense sat up and salivated.

'Duck cassoulet?'

Mycroft nodded, 'From the Diogenes. The chef there...the chef has been instructed to cook and send whatever you like, whenever you like. You just have to call and-'

'That's nice, Myc, but I can't afford to be eating there. I'm trying to save right now and-'

'On my account. Obviously.' Mycroft shifted slightly in his stance.

Greg looked at the bag, which was filling his office with it's delicious smell.

'Why?'

'Why not?'

'That's not an answer.'

Mycroft inclined his head, 'No. You are right.' Then he straightened up, 'But if your...daughter...wants duck cassoulet then it should be the best duck cassoulet.'

There were so many layers to what Mycroft was saying that Greg's mind froze trying to decipher them all. Instead he sighed, leaned back in his chair and nodded towards the bag.

'Do you have time for lunch?'


	11. Chapter 11

Mycroft looked uncertain as he sat down opposite Greg. It wasn't a look Mycroft wore well.

'I wanted to see you.'

Greg opened one of the cartons of food Mycroft had removed from the bag he'd brought.

'Mycroft, look, I appreciate this, but I meant what I said the other day. I just...I can't.'

Mycroft nodded, 'I can only hope that one day you will change your mind.'

'Myc you broke my fucking heart and no amount of takeaway is going to change that.'

'But-'

'Maybe eventually, some time down the line we might get somewhere close to being friends, but you hurt me so much..no. No we're not having this conversation again. Let's just eat our lunch and talk about something else.'

For the next fifteen minutes Mycroft picked at his food without eating much of it and did his best to make small talk with Greg, which Greg appreciated. It was surprisingly nice to have some level or normality between them and Greg was struck at how much he had always enjoyed spending time with Mycroft.

But then, as he was leaving, Mycroft had to go and ruin it again.

'Gregory...please think about-'

'Oh for fuck sake!' Greg snapped, 'You just never give up, do you? What is it that you want from me?' he leaned in close to Mycroft, pressing the other man back against the door, 'Well?'

And it was then that he felt Mycroft's erecting pressing against his hip and he glared at Mycroft, who ducked his head and had the decency to look embarrassed. Suddenly Greg was more than just angry.

'So that's it, is it? Have you developed some sort of pregnancy fetish or were you just feeling horny and assumed I was an easy shag?'

'Gregory-'

'You never change, do you? Do you?' he growled low into Mycroft's ear. And then he was reaching behind Mycroft to lock the door.

'What are you doing?' Mycroft breathed, still unable to look at Greg.

'It's what you want, isn't it? What you came here for? And here's me thinking you had actually changed, that you actually wanted to fix things, but you just want to get your leg over. So fine,' his hands tugged at Mycroft's belt, 'If that's what you want.'

This time Mycroft did look at him with shock instead of embarrassment, but Greg didn't give him a chance to speak, instead he kissed with a savagery that took him by surprise as his hand wrapped around Mycroft. The first stroke seemed to bring Mycroft back to his senses and he had Greg's trousers open in seconds, those long, cool hands sliding inside Greg's boxers.

Greg didn't break the kiss, keeping Mycroft pressed against the door, pushing away the thought that he was giving Mycroft a hand job in his office with his team just yards away. He had certainly never been this reckless before, but something about the anger and the urgency heightened everything and then he was coming, staining Mycroft's waistcoat. The politician followed a second later, whispering Greg's name like he used to do.

Pushing him away Grey tucked himself back in, angry again, and threw the box of tissues from his desk at Mycroft before unlocking the door. As he leaned past Mycroft the politician reached up to kiss him but Greg turned his head away from him, his eyes narrowed.

'Don't,' he said, 'Don#'t read anything into it. It was just a fuck.'

And before Mycroft could respond, Greg was out the door and striding across the office leaving the stunned Mycroft behind.


	12. Chapter 12

It happened again three weeks later.

Greg had sworn to himself that he was done with Mycroft Holmes for good, but there he was, pressed back against Mycroft's desk as the politician kissed him, pale hands working open the buttons of his shirt.

It was fast and angry and when it was over Mycroft dropped his head against Greg's shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

'Gregory-'

'Don't say anything.'

'But-'

'It is what it is. Don't make it worse, or make an issue of it,' Greg moved away from Mycroft and pulled his trousers up. It was then that he realised Mycroft was staring, 'What?'

'Nothing.'

'You're a bad liar Myc.'

'I...it's...you're...'

Greg smiled, slightly self conscious about the way Mycroft was scrutinising his changing body.

'Getting bigger? Yeah, that happens apparently.' his smile vanished and he lifted his coat off the back of the chair, 'Bye.'

When he was gone Mycroft stared at the door for a moment.

'I was going to say gorgeous.'


	13. Chapter 13

The words of the Defence Secretary faded into a hum in the background. Dear Lord did that man like the sound of his own voice. It was almost amusing, as he outlined his proposals and plans, how he thought he had any say in what would actually happen. Mycroft had already started to implement his own strategy months ago and certainly wasn't going to be given instructions by a chinless wonder with a double digit IQ.

Instead he let his mind wander to Gregory Lestrade. Not that it needed to wander far. Gregory had been on his mind more or less constantly for weeks. They hadn't spoken much since that last afternoon in Mycroft's office, and the only time Mycroft had seen him had been in passing at Baker Street, and Mycroft certainly didn't want to once again attempt to win Gregory over within earshot of his brother.

In truth he had spent much time considering his own feelings on the matter. He knew now, as he had known since Gregory left him two years ago, that he loved the man. More than that, he was IN LOVE with him. He wanted him back in his life, not simply for fornication, but on a permanent basis. In long meetings he'd found himself planning out dates and holidays, where Gregory's records would go, which wardrobe his clothes would hang in, which room the baby would sleep in...

And every time he got that far he would stop, jerking back to reality.

The baby. Gregory's baby. Not his.

Suddenly he had a desperate urge to speak with the policeman, and he lifted his phone and toyed with it for a few moments as he typed and deleted texts. In the end he settled for what he hoped was something light that might invite conversation, or at the very least a response.

_Would it be wrong to beat the defence secretary to death with my umbrella? MH_

A minute later.

_Sounds like your afternoon is almost as fun as mine._

Mycroft twitched a smile.

_I am trapped in a room listening to a pompus twit blather while I count down the seconds until tea break. MH_

_In that case kill him now and be the first to get to the custard creams._

Mycroft pressed his lips together to stop his smile. Before he had a chance to respond another message flashed up on his screen.

_Wish I had some custard creams. Missed lunch because I've been stuck in a field with your brother for the last four hours._

_My most sincere apologies. That is not a situation I would wish on anyone, especially not someone who was doing their best to uphold the law and protect our citizens. MH_

_Are you making fun of me Holmes?_

_Only slightly. But I am sorry you are suffering because of Sherlock. May I buy you dinner as an apology? MH_

He held his breath for a full minute after he sent that text, his heart beating slightly too fast. But a minute passed, and then two, and then fifteen and it became apparent that Gregory was not going to respond and Mycroft knew he had pushed things too far. Pushed Gregory away. He tried to pull himself together again, to listen to what the people around him were saying about strategy and funding, the statistics and figures just a jumble of numbers that meant nothing.

Two hours later he was gathering his papers into his briefcase when the screen of his phone, which had been sitting on the table in front of him, lit up again. A text from Gregory. Mycroft stared at the name for a moment, not sure if he wanted to read Gregory telling him no yet again. He took a breath and opened the message. It was only one word.

 _Okay_.


	14. Chapter 14

Greg couldn't help the small smile when he read Mycroft's text. He'd tried so hard over the last two years to only allow himself to think about Mycroft's bad points because that made it easier. But in truth he had missed Mycroft's sense of humour. As acerbic and dry as it was, the complete opposite of Greg's own, they had always managed to make each other laugh. And Greg had missed that.

He quickly typed out a response as John Watson approached.

_Are you making fun of me Holmes?_

'You know, when people smile at their phones like that they are usually looking at porn.'

Greg rolled his eyes and shoved his phone back into his pocket, 'No porn. I swear.'

John shrugged, 'I'm not judging you. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.'

At the slightly off tone in John's voice, Greg flicked his gaze across to Sherlock who was bent over the body, well a bit of it anyway. Ah, he realised, so that particular situation was still unresolved. He was about to offer a word of comfort to John when the doctor spoke again.

'So who's making you smile then?'

'Hmm?'

'Come on, who is it?'

'Oh...um...just...' Just what? Just Mycroft? Just a friend? Either of those responses would only lead to more questions that Greg didn't really want to answer.

But John just smiled and shook his head, 'Look at you, pulling when pregnant and I don't think he would notice if I did a strip tease in the middle of the living room.'

That was as close to a confession of John's feelings for his flatmate as they had ever come, and Greg got the feeling that John was gearing up for a a long discussion about it sometime in the future, but for now Greg would save him the probing questions.

John, however, had no such qualms.

'So, what's he like? Is it a he? She?'

'It's not really....he,' Greg relented.

John looked pleased at this nugget of information, 'You know, I never would have put you down for preferring men, I mean, when we first met you were married to a woman.'

Yes, and wasn't that a massive mistake.

'But then,' John went on, ignoring Greg's grimace, 'You started seeing Mycroft.'

'Yeah,' Greg said slowly, wary of where this conversation was going.

'You were together for ages, and I know you always said it wasn't serious, but....well, no one is willingly going to spend that much time with Mycroft unless they were serious about him. He's not the easiest of people to be around. A relationship with someone like him must be really hard work. Do you see much of him now?'

'Occasionally,' Greg said truthfully, and then to make sure John didn't get any ideas he added, 'He is technically my boss.'

'I suppose. Even so...Mycroft? I mean, what did you see in him?'

'He's....' 

He's what? Greg thought, looking out across the field for inspiration. Intelligent? Funny? Sexy as hell?

'He's....FOR FUCK SAKE SHERLOCK TAKE THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH RIGHT THIS SECOND!'

#

Two hours later Greg arrived back at his office, exhausted and soaked through. He retried his mobile from his coat before shrugging out of it. He was going to need a bigger one soon. More expense.

He perched against the radiator to try and warm himself up while he read through his texts. One from Molly telling him she would need another day on the severed foot they brought in earlier in the week, three from his mother with advice about maternity care, one from Argos telling him that his order was ready to be collected, and one from Mycroft sent several hours before.

_Only slightly. But I am sorry you are suffering because of Sherlock. May I buy you dinner as an apology? MH_

Greg stared at his phone for a long time as he thought. What was Mycroft Holmes? Persistent. That's what he was. Bloody persistent.

A half smile tugged at the corner of Greg's mouth and then he took a deep breath and typed out a response.

_Okay._


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make a little progress and a cameo from a reader favourite....

'Are you flirting with me?'

The midwife shrugged, 'I dunno. If I say yes is that posh bloke in the waiting room going to kill me?'

'He's in the waiting room?' Greg sat up, only to be gently pushed back again.

'Yeah, turned up just after you were called in. Tall, ginger, looks like he runs the country. Got a sexy power thing going on....'

'Yeah, that's him.' Greg sighed.

'I'll have him if you're not interested.'

'I didn't say I wasn't interested!'

The midwife smirked and pulled his gloves off, 'Alright, close your legs and pop off.'

'Lovely bedside manner you have.'

'I know, it took years of practice. Right, come on.'

'Where are you going?'

'Gonna get a closer look at your fancy man. Plus I don't wanna miss the awkward exchange that I know is coming.'

'You're an arsehole.'

'Yep.' the midwife grinned and held the door open for Greg, who rolled his eyes and followed him back to the waiting room, where Bill went straight up to Mycroft and extended his hand, 'Mr Lestrade.'

Mycroft stared at the hand for a second before raising his head, 'Homes.'

'Oh, apologies, I thought you were....William Murray. I'm Gregory's midwife.'

'I know.'

'Oh, he talks about me?' the midwife flashed a smile in Greg's direction.

'No...you treated my brother several years ago.'

'You're brother?....hang on....Holmes....you don't mean SHERLOCK?'

Mycroft nodded, avoiding the midwife's eye, but he glanced up when the other man laughed.

'Oh, I should have known.'

'Pardon?'

'That's too much sexy for one family.' he fished in his pocked for a scrap of paper, 'Look, give him my number. It'd be nice to catch up with him.'

'Are you seriously trying to get a date?' Greg asked.

'Are you seriously not?'

There was a moment of silence as the two men stared at each other, broken only by Mycroft's genteel cough.

'Would you like a lift home, Gregory?'

Greg ignored the midwife's smirk and turned towards Mycroft, 'Yeah. Thanks. And then you can explain why you are hanging around waiting rooms.'

'I think we both know the answer to that question.'

'Oh fuck off Bill.'

The midwife gave a mock salute, 'Until next week, Sir.'

#

There was a long silence in the back of Mycroft's car, each man looking out their respective windows until Greg finally spoke just as the car pulled into his own street.

'Mycroft,' he said slowly, in a slightly teasing tone, 'Do you have some sort of alert on me?'

The politician at least had the grace to look embarrassed, 'I...I may have....just something if you are admitted or...'

'That's kinda creepy, Myc.'

The car pulled to a stop and Greg got out, but before he closed the door fully he pulled it open again and leaned down.

'Sort of sexy too,' and then he closed the door and walked up the steps to his front door without looking back at the car.

Mycroft gave the driver instructions and as the car pulled off again, Mycroft smiled slightly to himself.


	16. Chapter 16

'Sherlock doesn't do sex!'

'Oh, he does, and he's really good at it!'

'And this is the point I should leave the room.' Mycroft made to stand up, but Greg caught him by the wrist and forced him to sit again while nodding at Bill the midwife.

'So you're seeing him again?'

'Hell yes!'

Greg nudged Mycroft with his elbow before flashing a grin at him.

'Although,' Bill said slowly, 'I'm not sure about his flatmate.'

'Flatmate?' Greg said.

'John Watson?' Mycroft added.

Bill glanced from one man to the other, 'Tiny, angry man in a horrible jumper?'

'Yeah, that sounds like him,' Greg leaned back in his chair, 'What did you do to piss him off?'

'He yelled at me for using their shower.'

'What was wrong with your own shower?'

'It didn't have a naked Sherlock in it.'

Mycroft stood up, 'And this is definitely the point I take my leave.'

Greg shared a grin with Bill before following Mycroft into the hallway.

'Prudish about Sherlock's love life?' he laughed.

'Worried about Sherlock getting hurt.'

Greg stopped walking and it took Mycroft another five steps before he realised that Greg wasn't following him.

'Gregory?'

'Bill's a good bloke.'

'I don't doubt that. However-'

'So let Sherlock make his own mind up. Yeah?'

'I-'

'And check this out!' Greg held out a small black and white printed photo.

'Whats'....oh.'

'Look at her fingers...and her toes.'

Mycroft stared down at the picture for a long time. Then he glanced up at Gregory's smiling face and without hesitation he leaned across and pressed a kiss to Gregory's lips.

'Mycroft?'

'I want her.'

'Myc, it's-'

'I want her. I want you.Both of you.'

'That;s not how it works.'

'Gregory, please.'

Greg shook his head, 'She's not yours Myc.'

'I want her to be.'

'It's not-'

'Please!'

In the silence that followed Greg stared at Mycroft who was still clutching the photo in his hand.

'Mycroft-'

'I'm still in love with you.'

'Don't do this.'

'I'm sorry. But...but I love you. I want you. And I want her.'

'Myc, she's not yours.'

'She could be.'

'That's not-'

'I love you. And...and I love her.'

'Don't be ridiculous. She's not even-'

'She's you.' Mycroft shouted, 'Look at her,' he thrust the picture towards Greg, 'Look, She's....she's....' Mycroft stopped and looked up at Gregory, 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've done.'

And then he left, leaving Greg alone in the street.


	17. Chapter 17

'Why are you angry at me?'

Mycroft looked up from his laptop as Greg slammed the door behind him, shutting them both in Mycroft's office.

'I'm not...'

'You walked out on me!'

'You told me she wasn't mine.'

'She's not yours.'

In the silence that followed Mycroft closed his eyes, not wanting to have the conversation that they both knew was coming.

'Gregory, can we....'

'No. We need to talk about this, Myc.'

'Please.'

'It's not going to change anything.'

'Gregory...I...'

'You what? You're sorry? You wish it could be different? You-'

'I wish I'd been honest with you.' Mycroft finally opened his eyes, 'I was scared. I said things that weren't true.'

'What do you mean?'

'I told you...Gregory...I...'

'Don't.' Greg held his hands up to silence the politician, 'Don't tell me that, not now.'

'I never stopped loving you.'

Greg turned away, unable to look at Mycroft for another moment.

'Yeah, you keep saying that.'

'I mean it.'

'Did you mean it when you were manhandling me into an abortion?'

'Gregory, please-'

'Please what? Please you're sorry? Please you didn't mean it? Please you changed your mind?' he stared at Mycroft, waiting for an answer, but the one he got wasn't the one he expected.

'Please let me love her.'

In the silence that followed Greg stared at Mycroft, who kept his gaze fixed firmly on the desk in front of him.

'You don't get to ask that.'

'Gregory-'

'No! No. This is...this is wrong. This is why we can't...you don't get to demand...to even ask.....how dare....What is your game? What do you hope to get out of this?'

And then Mycroft lifted his head and looked directly at Greg.

'You.'


	18. Chapter 18

John?' Greg asked when Sherlock stepped out of the cab at the crime scene.'

Immediately Sherlock's posture changed and his eyes narrowed slightly, 'John is mad at me?'

'What did you do this time?'

'I don't know. He won't tell me.'

'Did you ask him?'

'Of course I did.'

Ahh...Greg sighed, he had rather hoped that Mycroft would be the one who would deal with this problem, but it looked like it was down to him.

'I think it might be because of Bill.'

A rare look of confusion passed across Sherlock's face and Greg actually felt sorry for him.

'John's...well, he's jealous.'

'John wants to be with Bill?'

'You are so...No! John wants to be with you.'

Sherlock's face did that blank thing it did when he was processing something and Greg took the opportunity to keep speaking.

'He's been mad about you for years. Since he first moved in. He thought he wouldn't have a chance so...look, I shouldn't be-'

'Of course he didn't have a chance!'

Greg reeled back slightly, 'That's a bit harsh, Sherlock.'

'He knew how I felt about him.'

'How?'

'I told him. More than once.'

Sherlock was pulling off his gloves and losing interest in the conversation now that he had his answer.

'So...why aren't you two...what happened?'

'He married someone else.'

Greg just stared at Sherlock, but Sherlock was already stepping away to look at some thing on the ground and he knew the conversation was over, but then Sherlock turned back to him just briefly.

'How can I be held accountable for the fact that he didn't listen when I told him how I felt?'

#

'Gregory!' Mycroft smiled and made to stand up from his desk, but Greg shook his head, holding up a hand to silence the redhead.

'You said...said...said you.... love me?' 

Mycroft nodded slowly.

'Do you know what that word means?'

'Gregory please! I-'

'Do you understand what it is to care about someone else so much that they always come first, that you would live and die for them?'

'Is this about-?'

'Answer the question. Yes or no?' Greg shouted, louder than he expected.

Mycroft dropped his gaze to his desk top and his shoulders dropped. He stared down for a long time and when Mycroft's voice when it came was soft and almost a whisper.

'Yes.'

There was so much want and pain in that one word that Greg had to blink back tears.

'I...I don't know how I feel about this,' he admitted, and Mycroft nodded, his head still bowed, 'But...it stops now.'

At this Mycroft looked up, almost fearful.

'Sherlock said something today about being honest and speaking up, and..and you've already done that. So now I need to. And what's I'm going to say is...is that this needs to stop.'

He thought he would have felt relief at saying the words, but instead there was a hollow thud in his chest and he let his eyes slide away from Mycroft so he wouldn't have to see the look on his face.

'I understand.'

And THAT was not what he had been expecting.

'You..do?'

Mycroft nodded, biting his lip slightly, 'You need to put your daughter first, and I'm led to believe that pregnancy is difficult enough without adding...' Mycroft swallowed, 'Complications.'

'Complications?'

'That's what our relationship is, is it not?'

'We aren't in a relationship.'

'And yet you woke up in my bed this morning.' Mycroft gave him a sad smile, 'See? Complications.'

And for the first time, in that one look, Greg saw how Mycroft really felt. How hard this was for him, and he wanted to walk over and hold him, but he didn't. Instead he nodded.

'Gregory,' Mycroft said, suddenly efficient and back in normal Mycroft mode, 'I'll say it so you don't have to. We should call a halt to what we are doing now, before it overwhelms either of us. But..' he swallowed again, 'But if you will permit it, I'd prefer we called it a halt, not an end.'

Greg frowned, 'What do you mean?'

'I mean that now may not be the right time to develop a relationship, but I want you to understand that I am not giving up on it.'

'Mycroft that's just-'

'I assure you I meant everything I said, and I apologize for any pressure that may have put you under. But...I want you to know, Gregory, that I'm not...that I'll do everything I can to show you...to convince you to give me a chance.'


	19. Chapter 19

'It's not that I mind,' Mrs Sampson, Greg's downstairs neighbour said, 'I understand that you'll be getting more parcels and things, in your condition,' she nodded towards his stomach, 'But it's just taking up so much room. Oscar banged his ankle on it when he was taking Felix out for a walk this morning.'

Greg blinked down at the shorter woman, 'Sorry, on what?'

'On that pram of yours,' Mrs Sampson pouted.

'But I haven't even put it together yet. It's still in the box.'

'It;'s taking up most of the hallway is what it is,' she shook her head, 'You need to sort that out.'

#

Greg stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked at the object in question.

It was dark grey with a detachable bassinet. On the floor beside it was a sturdy car seat that seemed to clip onto the frame. It was sleek, elegant and efficient. And not the pram he had ordered.

'You bought a pram?' he said into his phone.

'I...yes.'

'It's-'

'Multifunctional and should cope with her requirements until she is at least three.'

'It's not the one I ordered.'

'No. It's better.'

There was a silence as Greg tried to decide if he needed to shout or just start speaking very slowly.

'You bought my daughter a pram.'

'Yes.'

'I already bought her a pram.'

'But this one is better.'

Greg took another look at the object in question and then sighed, 'That pram probably cost more than my car.'

'She deserves the best.'

'Mycroft I can't afford this.'

'...I can.' there was a pause and Greg closed his eyes, knowing the look that would be on Mycroft's face, 'Let me.'

'Mycroft you can't just-'

'It's just a pram.'

'It don't need you buying things for me.'

'It's not for you. It's for her.'


	20. Chapter 20

'Gregory?' 

The sight of a breathless and pale Mycroft hurrying towards him was enough to make Greg stop in his tracks.

'Myc? What are you doing here?'

'Sherlock...I was at Sherlock's and he said you'd been taken to hospital.'

Greg sighed and made a mental note to punch Sherlock in the arm the next time he saw him.

'Well you know how dramatic he can be. It's fine.'

But Mycroft didn't look convinced, if anything the fact that they were having this conversation in a hospital corridor seemed to make things worse.

'Are you alright? The baby....is she okay? Was it...?'

Greg nodded, 'She's fine. False alarm.'

'False...?'

'She wasn't moving much so I came here to get checked over, and she promptly made a dick of me by doing Riverdance on my bladder the second I arrived here.'

Mycroft nodded, but didn't look certain.

'Perhaps a second opinion. There could be all sorts of reasons why she-'

He stopped talking suddenly when Greg grabbed his hand and pressed it to his stomach, smiling slightly at the shocked look on Mycroft's face.

'See? Fine.'

But there was something about Mycroft's expression that wasn't quite right. Instead of looking relieved he looked...pained.

'Mycroft?' Greg let got of Mycroft's wrist and instantly Mycroft jerked his hand away from Greg's stomach.

'Apologies,' he said instantly, not quite meeting Greg's eye, 'I didn't mean to interuppt your day.'

And he walked out, leaving Greg standing alone, confused, in the corridor.


	21. Chapter 21

It had been over a week since Greg had heard from Mycroft, which once wouldn't have been unusual, but lately they spoke almost every day, so on day eight he drove to Mycroft's after work. 

'Gregory!' Mycroft looked slightly surprised to see him, but there was something else about his demeanour that troubled Greg.

'Haven't heard from you for a couple of days so just thought I'd call in.'

Mycroft nodded, 'It's always a pleasure to see you.'

'So you're not avoiding me then?' Greg asked. It was meant to be a joke, but Mycroft didn't smile.

'I haven't-'

'You fucking have!' Greg sighed and shook his head, 'I am a bloody idiot. You're doing it again!' he got to his feet, which was more difficult these days and turned for the door, his anger competing with his sadness, but determined he wasn't going to look like even more of an idiot in front of Mycroft Fucking Holmes.

What he wasn't expecting was for Mycroft to literally run after him, catching Greg's wrist in his cool hand and stopping him.

'Please don't leave.'

'Myc,' Greg sighed again, not turning around, 'This...this isn't going to work. I know that...look, it's okay. I'll...I'll see-'

'You scared me.'

At this statement Greg did turn around, and Mycroft abruptly let go of his wrist.

'What?'

The politician licked his lips before he responded, 'At the hospital, when you put my hand on...on...you've never allowed me to do that before. Even when you've shared my bed, you have never let me...'

Greg frowned, and tried to understand. He did, to a point. It was true that he'd been uncomfortable with the idea of Mycroft touching his stomach, but when he'd taken Mycroft's hand he hadn't even thought about it. But there was something he didn't understand.

'Why would that scare you?'

Mycroft looked broken and Greg wanted to reach out to him, but he held back, knowing deep down that this was a conversation they had to have now.

'Until then it...she,' he corrected, 'Has been something I've been kept detached from. A...concept of a baby.'

Immediately Greg understood. He'd felt the same way right until the first time he'd seen her on the ultrasound screen and later when he felt her move for the first time. His anger drained away and he smiled sadly.

'And you realised it's not just cake in there?'

Mycroft nodded.

'And you want to...?' he left the question hanging, not quite able to bring himself to ask if Mycroft wanted to back out.

'I needed some time to process.'

'You needed time to hang out in your mind palace?'

'It's not a palace!' Mycroft protested.

'Fine, you're summer home in Sussex or your museum or whatever you call it.'

Mycroft nodded again, 'And then I needed to make arrangements.'

Something in his hesitant tone set off an alarm in Greg's mind and he frowned, 'What sort of arrangements?'

'Security, finance, school options-'

'Hang on!' Greg cut him off, his anger returning, 'Those aren't decisions you get to make.'

'I know.' Mycroft said in a small voice, 'But I want to. At lease I want to be involved. I wanted to make sure there were options for her.'

'Why?'

'Because she's yours. And she deserves everything.' Mycroft looked down at the rug and Greg was once again filled with the urge to reach out to the other man. This time he didn't hesitate. He caught both of Mycroft's hands and guided them to his swollen abdomen and watched Mycroft's face as his eyes opened wider.

And then, without really knowing why, Greg leaned in close to Mycroft, their heads side by side, so close he could feel the heat from Mycroft's skin, and he just allowed the moment to happen.


	22. Chapter 22

The change that followed was so subtle that it took Greg a couple of weeks to notice it. And the moment he did it happened in front of Sherlock, of course.

A birthday tea for Mrs Hudson had seemed innocuous enough when John had suggested it, and certainly something Greg thought he could manage, although at seven and a half months the stairs at 221B were another matter. He climbed laboriously up them, Mycroft hovering a few steps behind him as if worried he would fall, which was both annoying and strangely endearing.

Greg glanced back over his shoulder, 'Are you staring at my arse?'

Mycroft rolled his eyes which made Greg grin and carry on ever upwards, and if he wiggled his bum a little as he went, well....

'Oh Detective Inspector!' Mrs Hudson clapped her hands as he came through the door, looking genuinely delighted to see him, her eyes traveling over his body, 'Oh, look how big you've got!'

Greg, who was finally getting used to his changing shape being scruitinzed just smiled.

A hand gently touched the base of his spine to guide him forward. It was nothing more than the most fleeting of touches, which had increased in frequency over the weeks, but never more than a ghosting gesture. From anyone else it might have seemed wary, or standoffish, but Greg knew Mycroft better than anyone and he knew that it was a combination of affection and respect, but also a fear that Greg might push him away. If Greg was honest, it made him feel like something fragile to be looked after, he'd never felt that way before, and he was still trying to work out if he liked it or not.

'What's he doing here?' Sherlock demanded from his chair.

'Nice to see you too, brother dearest.'

'Piss off!' Sherlock responded, which earned him an admonishment from Mrs Hudson and a glare from John.

'I invited him,' Greg gave Sherlock a look that said very clearly that any further argument would result in no cases for a year, and then passed Mrs Hudson the gift bag he had carried up.

She beamed happily, 'Thank you,' and then looked very surprised as Mycroft passed over the much smaller, but much more luxurious package he'd carried up, 'I wasn't expecting anything.'

'Well you must keep it now because I'm certain it won't suit anyone else in the room,' Mycroft said with a smile, and John shared a look of surprise with Greg at Mycroft's attempt at a joke.

Sherlock, of course, was awkward for the rest of the afternoon, despite frequent pointed stares from John and one sharp kick to the ankle from Greg when the consulting detective was almost rude to Mrs Hudson. And then, after an afternoon of cake and sandwiches, which Greg suspected Sherlock had got Mrs Hudson to make herself, it was time to leave.

As Greg made to get out of his chair, something which was getting more difficult by the day, but thankfully hadn't progressed to the pained groan stage quite yet, the baby gave a well placed kick to his bladder which made him wince and jerk backwards.

Mycroft was beside him in a second, his hand reaching out to take Greg's elbow and guide him to his feet. 

'Thank, love,' Greg smiled, and then to Mrs Hudson's concerned face, 'She's just having a little dance in there.'

Greg and Mycroft made their way out together, leaving Sherlock glaring at his brother while a perplexed John and Mrs Hudson, who was wearing the tasteful Hermes scarf Mycroft had given her, exchanged slightly confused looks.

It wasn't until Greg was almost at the bottom of the stairs that he realised what he'd said. Oh.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days? What is this madness? Well we're snowed in and I'm going slightly stir crazy.

With three weeks to go Greg started his leave. He hadn't wanted to leave so soon, initially planning on working as long as possible now so he had more time off after the baby came. But he was exhausted, swollen and slow and every one of his joins and back ached so much he could barely move. Bill, his midwife, had been adamant.

'I WILL call your GP and get them to send a sick note direct to your supervisor.'

'That's because you're a bastard.'

'Yes I am,' Bill wasn't the least bit put out, 'You need to rest more, put your feet up while you can. A good long soak in the bath will help ease some of the pains too.'

Greg thought about the tiny flat in his bath. Even if he somehow managed to get himself into it, there was no way he would be able to pull himself out again and he'd probably end up wedged in there until help came.

'Is it supposed to be this sore?'

Bill nodded, 'Sometimes. Perfectly normal to be uncomfortable at this stage, even if you were young and fit and not old as fuck like you are.'

'Someone needs to talk to you about your beside manner.'

'Sherlock happens to like my bedside manner.' Bill winked at him.

'So I hear.'

Bill smiled at him but that was all he was going to divulge. To give him his credit, he teased and flirted but he didn't actually divulge many details, certainly nothing overly personal, and Greg had to respect him for that. Especially since he'd been forced to hear them all from John, who was finding sharing a flat with a sexually active Sherlock to be far more stressful than he could ever have imagined.

'It's like he's trying to rub it in my face,' John had complained to Greg.

'Who?' Greg had looked up from the case in front of him at the doctor.

'Sherlock.' it was hard to miss the pained tone in John's voice, 'If they aren't shagging in the shower then all I can hear is moaning and grunting.'

Greg tried very hard not to form a mental picture of Sherlock having sex.

'Might be an obvious question, but have you tried talking to him about this?'

'What do you think?'

Greg winced, 'Went down well then?'

At that point John had leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling for a long time, 'I'm going to have to move out, aren't I?'

There hadn't been any need to respond, and they hadn't spoken about it since. But Greg thought about it as he made his way home after his appointment. Making tea in his small flat, which was about half the size of Baker Street, he wondered what it would be like to live in such confined space and having to hear the person you were sort of in love with having sex with someone else.

Sound carried in flats, and he didn't have the luxury of a spacious, two floor jobby. His own flat was small with one tiny bedroom and he was already worrying about pissing off the neighbours with the sounds of a newborn baby, not to mention where he was going to put all the stuff said new baby would need. So far most of it was still in it's flatpack boxes stacked beside the sofa. The thought of putting everything together filled him with dread. He could barely manage to put his socks on these days, he had no idea how he was going to put together an Ikea nursery. As if on cue his lower back gave another twinge of pain.

#

Greg felt foolish and almost left before the door opened, but before he could the porch was flooded in light and Mycroft was in the open doorway.

'Look,' Greg cut him off before he could say anything, 'I know this sounds strange, but...can I use your bath?'

#

An hour later Greg eased himself out of the water and toweled himself dry with the enormous soft towels Mycroft had hung up to heat for him. Mycroft's bath was enormous, slightly sunken into the floor so there was no awkward hauling himself and his enormous stomach over the edge, and the sides were curved to allow the user to lay down almost completely submerged. It seemed almost a shame to get out of it again, but Greg knew if he stayed in it any longer he would fall asleep there.

He pulled on an old pair of bottoms and a faded teeshirt that had once been several sizes too big and was now stretched over his stomach, and reluctantly left the bath behind. Mycroft had insisted he stay as there was no point in spending an hour relaxing and then traveling several miles back to his own flat again, and to be honest Greg hadn't taken any persuasion, which he was glad for now as he didn't think he'd manage to stay awake long enough.

There was a door open down the hall and Greg found Mycroft inside fussily rearranging pillows, turning on the lamp and turning down the bed. He stopped when he sensed Greg in the doorway watching him and looked suddenly awkward for a man who was always so graceful.

'I wasn't sure where you...I didn't want to presume...'

Greg gently took the pillow out of Mycroft's hand and threw it back on the bed and then tugged at his wrist, leading him back across the hallway to Mycroft's own room. He stopped just inside the doorway and jerked his head meaningfully towards Mycroft's bed. Beside him Mycroft nodded, almost managing to keep the disappointment off his face.

Nodding, Greg turned away again and Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed to kick off his slippers, not even trying to hide his emotions now that he was alone.

But Greg hadn't left, he'd just closed the door. As soon as Mycroft realised that carefully controlled expression was back, but not before Greg had seen Mycroft stripped raw, one of those rare, split seconds where Mycroft wasn't hiding anything, and it was all Greg had needed as confirmation of his own actions.

'Turn off the lamp will you,' he said as he climbed in.

Mycroft hesitated and then reached out and flicked the lamp off before laying down on his own side of the bed, carefully, respectfully away from Greg just like they had agreed. But they had agreed that before...well.

'Come here, Myc,' Greg said with mock irritation and he waited until the other man was almost settled behind him before he reached back and gabbed Mycroft's hand, pulling his arm around Greg's middle. He felt Mycroft's whole body stiffen with uncertainty and he huffed out a sigh, keeping his own arm over Mycroft's to hold it in place, 'Go to sleep, Myc.'

He was just drifting into sleep when Mycroft finally started to relax, and he fell alseep with Mycroft's breath on the back of his neck and his hand splayed protectively across his stomach as if it belonged there.


	24. Chapter 24

Greg woke up warm and comfortable with the memory of an embrace and a kiss on his neck. He smiled as he went to find Mycroft and was surprised and disapointed to see the other man fully dressed and ready to leave.

'Gregory!' Mycroft smiled, and then stopped, ducking his head, unsure.

And that was all it took. Greg crossed the tiled floor and kissed him. For a moment Mycroft didn't respond and Greg started to pull away thinking he'd completely missread everything, but then Mycroft's hand circled around and rested on the small of his back and rested there gently.

'Don't go to work today,' Greg said, dropping his forehead to Mycroft's shoulder.

'Gregory I must...'

'Where?'

'...Tehran.'

'How long?'

Mycroft sighed, 'Until Wednesday.'

'That's six days.' Greg groaned against Mycroft's shoulder, 'What am I supposed to do for six days.'

'Have a lot of baths,' Mycroft said softly.

Greg lifted his head and looked Mycroft square in the eye, fully ready to protest, but then his shoulders sagged and he nodded.

'Wednesday.'

Mycroft didn't say anything, but his fingers very briefly tightened on Greg's wrist and then he made to leave, and suddenly Greg couldn't stand to watch him go. He turned him back and hesitated for just a second before he kissed him again, knowing it was a bad idea and knowing it was the wrong time but not able to stop himself.

It was Mycroft who pulled away first and the pained look in his eyes made Greg regret his actions.

'Sorry,' he said, ducking away, 'Hormones and-'

Mycroft's cool hand closed around Greg's wrist and stopped him and the policeman looked up.

'Wednesday,' Mycroft said, and all Greg could do was nod.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There be angst on the starboard bow!

Mycroft leaned back against the soft leather seats and watched the other traffic for a moment before he took out his phone and dialled.

'Hello you,' he could hear the smile when the other man answered, despite the late hour.

'Gregory, apologies for calling so late. I trust you are well?'

'No, I'm in labour.'

Mycroft's heart clenched with panic and if took him a second to realise Gregory was laughing.

'That was not funny.'

'Yes it was.'

'Gregory!' Mycroft sighed and waited for his heart rate to come back down again.

'I'm sorry,' Gregory said, not sounding sorry in the slightest, 'I'm fine. Honestly. I'm in bed. Alone.'

'I would never suggest-'

'Your bed.'

Gregory left the words hanging there and Mycroft swallowed at their clear meaning.

'I've just passed Marble Arch,' he said, 'I'll be there in five minutes.'

'You'd better be naked by the time you get up these stairs,' Gregory warned and then hung up.

Mycroft stared down at his phone and willed the traffic to move faster. Six days had been a long time.

#

Three days after Gregory's due date Mycroft arrived back home from the office to find Gregory's hospital bag gone from it's usual position at the bottom of the stairs. He immediately called the policeman and sighed in frustration when Gregory's mother answered it.

'It's fine,' she assured in a calm voice which did little help when Mycroft could hear Gregory yelling in the background, 'Don't panic. It's only been a couple of hours. He's got his birth plan and his midwife and all the painkillers he wants.'

'But what-'

'It's fine.' Mrs Lestrade assured again and then rang off leaving Mycroft standing helpless.

The thing was, he'd known this was the plan. Gregory had been very adamant about his mother being with him and not wanting Mycroft pacing hospital corridors and scaring staff. So instead Mycroft was pacing the hall of his own home and glancing at his phone every few minutes. Even so, he wasn't expecting a call from Gregory's father just an hour later asking him to come to the hospital.

#

'What's happening?' Mycroft strode towards the small group of people in the corridor, trying not to groan when he realised Sherlock was with then.

'He's asking for you,' Mrs Lestrade came out of the room.

'Me?'

She nodded.

'But-'

'But nothing,' she gave him a gentle push, 'When someone in labour asks for you, you go.'

Bill looked up from whatever he was doing, 'Just in time.'

But before Mycroft could speak, Gregory grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, his face serious.

'If you're serious about this,' he said, struggling to keep his voice level, 'Then you make up your mind. But if you aren't, if you can't do this then you tell me right now!'

Mycroft opened his mouth but his words were drowned out by an almighty shout from Gregory, and then another sound, a soft laugh and a sigh of relief. Mycroft made the mistake of looking at her.

#

There was a moment of breathlessness and then a soft weight was placed on Greg's chest and he looked down at the smallest baby he'd ever seen. He was vaguely aware of Bill saying something to him, but all he could do was stare, taking in the tiny fingers and lips and trying to work out what colour her hair was underneath, barely able to breathe at the perfection he was holding.

He looked up to show her off, but Mycroft was gone.


	26. Chapter 26

Greg woke from sleep with the knowledge that he was not alone in the room. Lifting his head he saw Mycroft standing at the foot of his bed staring down at the little plastic cot which now contained Greg's daughter. He started to push himself up so he could tell Mycroft to leave, his disapointment and hurt burning strong still. But he stopped when Mycroft spoke.

'She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.'

The politician didn't move, he just carried on looking at the sleeping baby with what could only be described as a desperate mixture of awe and fear. He looked, Greg realised, exactly how Greg was feeling.

'Why did you leave?' Greg asked him.

'I...was scared. I couldn't...I wasn't prepared for how I would feel when I saw her. I thought I was but...I've never felt anything like that. Sentiment is not...' Mycroft broke off and swallowed, every word clearly difficult for him.

He looked wrecked. His suit was crumpled and the lines around his eyes were deep and he was still, so very still and refusing to look at Greg, and Greg felt that anger drain away in an instant. Because he had felt exactly the same way when he'd been handed his baby and if he'd been in any fit state to move he might have run away too.

'Do you want to hold her?'

And the look on Mycroft's face almost broke Greg's heart.

'You'd let...will you forgive me?'

Greg nodded, 'Of course I will. So long as you don't run away again.' he smiled, 'At lease you didn't faint.'

Mycroft removed his jacket and very gently reached in and lifted the baby out, cradling her in his arms as he lowered himself onto the seat next to the bed.

'Don't look so scared,' Greg said, still smiling, 'You're not going to drop her.'

'I dropped Sherlock when he was a baby.'

'Which probably explains a lot,' Greg said, but he was watching the rapt expression on the other man's face, barely able to keep the smile off his own, 'And hey,' he said teasingly, 'We get to keep her and everything!'

'Why would we not be allowed to keep her?' Mycroft was immediately defensive, his posture changing suddenly as if someone was trying to take the baby away from him. Well, wasn't that interesting?

'It's a joke.'

Mycroft frowned, relaxing slightly, 'It wasn't amusing.'

'Yeah, well I've had a lot of painkillers today.'

Silence fell again until Mycroft asked the question Greg had been putting off answering.

'Does she have a name?'

To be fair Mycroft had avoided that topic too, almost as if he thought he wasn't allowed to ask. Greg nodded and then hesitated. He hadn#t said it aloud to anyone else yet and he suddenly felt embarrassed because, whether he would admit it or not, Mycroft's opinion mattered to him.

'...Imogen...'

And for the first time since he'd come into the room, Mycroft lifted his head and looked directly at Greg with a small smile, and then he went back to staring at Imogen. Greg watched them for as long as he could until sleep overtook him again.


	27. Chapter 27

Greg made his way slowly back from the hospital bathroom where he'd managed a shower and to dress himself, albeit very slowly, to find Mycroft still sitting where he had left him, looking down at Imogen.

'Have you put her down at all?'

Mycroft didn't look up as he shook his head.

'You'll her spoil her.'

'That's the point,' Mycroft said with one last smile before passing her into Greg's arms. Greg laughed softly.

'Myc, did you just sniff my baby?'

Mycroft's cheeks coloured slightly, and he declined to answer. But Greg didn't need him to say anything. He'd stayed at the hospital with him all night, watching over Greg as he caught as much sleep as he could, and obsessively checking on Imogen every few seconds, his blue eyes rarely leaving her tiny form for more than a moment. It was....it was hard to believe this was the same Mycroft who had coldly told Greg to get an abortion just over two years ago, and Greg was finding it hard to reconcile the change.

But now they were being allowed home, and all Greg could think of was settling down on the sofa with his new baby and just being able to fully absorb the reality of this new life. He was carefully strapping Imogen into the car seat that Mycroft had produced, which Greg knew wasn't the one he had bought, when Mycroft spoke.

'Gregory, I know we haven't spoken about it, but...' Mycroft paused, finding the words difficult, and Greg waited for him to continue, knowing better than to press the man. When he did speak again the words came in a rush, 'Would you...consider staying at my home.'

Greg stood up slowly and looked at Mycroft, who was back to looking slightly afraid, and Greg took pity on him and shook his head.

'Myc, I don't think that's....not yet.'

Mycroft nodded, but there was a pleading in his eyes that Greg knew he would struggle to voice. Even so, Mycroft tried.

'I understand. I don't wish to...I simply wanted to help. You could have your own room, I wouldn't expect...I...' and he trailed off with a an angry frown that Greg knew was directed internally and not at Greg.

'Everything is set up at my place...'

He should have known by the set of Mycroft's jaw what was coming next, but even so it was a surprise.

'I took the liberty of having the room prepared for you both. The house is entirely equipped to your needs.'

'You did what?' Greg didn't know whether to be angry or flattered.

'My home is more spacious, more room for all the needs of a baby,' that comment got to Greg in more ways than one. He was well aware that his one bedroom flat wasn't ideal, but had already resigned himself to years of sleeping on the sofa so his daughter could have a bedroom for herself, but Mycroft's next comments really got to him, 'And no noisy neighbours fighting at three am, or all night parties in the flat above. My staff will be on hand to deal with all domestic matters, security, transport...there will be nothing for you to concern yourself with other than...Imogen,' Mycroft glanced down at her as he spoke her name.

And Christ did that sound like a wonderful option. Mycroft's staff were scarce and discreet and in all the years Greg had known him, he'd never observed them at work. But somehow the house was spotless, the garden tended, the kitchen stocked with an abundance of precooked meals, and if he was honest, the thought of spending his afternoons cuddling his baby in the comfortable armchairs in the oak paneled library or the rustic chairs in the conservatory that Mycroft never used and insisted on calling the glasshouse sort of appealed to him. But he was hit with the sudden painful awareness that it was because once upon a time he thought, for however briefly a moment, that he'd be doing that with his and Mycroft's baby.

'I don't think that's-'

'I want you to be comfortable,' Mycroft cut across him, 'I will adjust my presence as you require. But...Gregory I want this time to be as easy and comfortable for you as possible. And...and yes, I want to spend it with you. But I will not put you in a position you are not ready for. I just ask that-'

'Shut up Mycroft!'

Mycroft stopped talking abruptly, and Greg couldn't help the smile that followed, and then, still not sure if it was a good idea or not, he nodded.

'Okay. But just so you know, I'm only agreeing because of your bath.'


	28. Chapter 28

'We're so glad you're back together,' Violet Holmes said, patting her eldest son's knee.

Mycroft grimaced at the assumption, 'We're...taking it slowly this time.'

'Taking it slowly,' Violet make a tutting sound, 'He's living here with you. And a baby!' she shook her head as though she was disappointed in him, 'You never told us. We had to hear about it from Sherlock!'

'It was complicated,' Mycroft said slowly.

'But you're looking after them?' his father asked.

'Yes,' Mycroft responded, 'I'm-'

'Of he is,' Gregory's voice came from the doorway, rough with sleep. He was unshaven, his dark eyes creased with exhaustion, his hair a mess and dressed in an old football shirt and ancient boxers, through which he'd leaked during the night. He looked swollen and pale and in winced when he moved. And Mycroft thought he had never looked more beautiful that he did as he walked into the room carrying Imogen.

'I didn't hear you come in,' Gregory said.

'Perfectly understandable,' Siger said cheerfully, but Violet pursed her lips.

'Perhaps you might like to change,' she said tightly.

Gregory just blinked at her for a moment, his face flushing with embarrassment and uncertainty, and then Mycroft stood up and stepped between Gregory and his parents.

'How are you both this morning?' he asked softly.

Gregory's eyes met his and the policeman smiled, 'Exhausted. Thank you for getting up with her.'

'Mycroft is getting up with the baby?' Violet asked, 'He shouldn't be doing that when he has such an important job to do the next day.'

'I was up anyway, Mummy,' Mycroft said, 'And besides, I'm on leave right now.'

'Leave?' Violet sounded surprised, 'We didn't have any such thing in my day. How long are you both off for?'

'I've arranged a month,' Mycroft said, which seemed to surprise Gregory, and he realised they hadn't talked about it before, 'And I believe Gregory planned to take the full year.'

'A year!' Violet was scandalised, 'I was back at work four days after having you! It's only a baby, millions of other people have done it before you,' she gave a small laugh, 'A year indeed!'

'Mummy-' Mycroft started.

'I'm going to get dressed,' Gregory said suddenly, 'If you'll excuse me.'

Mycroft followed him to the door.

'Yeah?' Gregory asked him.

Well aware that both of his parents were watching him intently, Mycroft kept his voice and soft.

'I'll dress Imogen. If you...if you like.'

Gregory stared at him a moment long and then that soft smile of his was back again and he nodded, 'Thanks.'

Mycroft held his arms out and gently took the baby from Gregory, before following him slowly up the stairs.

Back in the sitting room he heard his father exclaim, 'Well. What about that!'

#

'I do apologise, Gregory,' Mycroft said as soon as they were out of earshot, 'I didn't know my parents were coming.'

Gregory shrugged but he looked uncomfortable, 'Wish I'd known. Not like I really want anyone to see me like this,' he tugged at his shirt.

'You look fine.'

'I look like shit.'

Mycroft shook his head, 'You look perfect.' he leaned forward and placed a single small kiss against Gregory's lips which made Gregory colour slightly and attempt to make light of the moment.

'If I'd known you had a thing for unwashed and exhausted then I'd have stopped making an effort ages ago.'

They shared another smile, still getting used to the new changes in...their relationship. That's what it was now, wasn't it?

'I'm gonna grab a shower.'

Mycroft nodded, 'I shall find Imogen something more suitable to wear,' he pulled a face, 'Apparently it's not the done thing to lounge in one's sleepwear all day.'

Gregory clearly caught Mycroft's irritation and he touched his arm, 'It's okay. I know what your mum's like.'

'She can be terribly old fashioned about certain things. I do apologise.'

There was a second's silence and then Gregory kissed him swiftly before turning away to the bathroom.

'And don't put her in anything ridiculous.'


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and violet fucks things up....

Mycroft had tactfully left a fully dressed and perfectly content Imogen in her cot in Greg's room while he went back down to his parents. It gave Greg a few more precious, uninterrupted minutes to simply stare at his daughter in wonder once he came out of the shower. He smiled when he saw what Mycroft had dressed her in, a yellow and white striped babygro that made her look like a tiny bee, and for some reason reminded him of Sherlock.

After quickly pulling on some clothes he paused, feeling self-conscious. He had spent most of the last few days in either pyjamas or his maternity clothes since nothing else he owned would fit properly, and looking at himself in the large mirror he was painfully aware of how soft and swollen he was. But then Imogen started to grumble and he turned instead to her, gently lifting her just before she started to cry.

'Hungry again?' he asked and carried her downstairs.

As he entered the living room again conversation stopped, and he was aware once again of the soft, slightly concerned look on Mycroft's face as he followed every action. But before either man could speak, Violet was already on her feet and practically wrestling Imogen out of his arms. Greg was so shocked by her action that he was frozen.

'Mummy!' Mycroft shouted, but Violet waved him off with a dismissive hand gesture.

'Oh pish,' she said, scruitinising Imogen, who was unused to her and her scene and was hungry, 'Little darling is clearly starving. Bring me her bottle!'

'I was going to feed her now,' Greg said.

He was met with a pitying look from Violet, 'Dear, you clearly can barely dress yourself without prompting. Why don't you make us all a cup of tea instead and I'll look after her.'

There was some undercurrent in her tone that made Greg both embarassed and feel strangely cold and he wanted to shout, to growl a response and then snatch his daughter back, but he found himself frozen to the spot still, unable to move and frantically wondering what the hell this woman thought she was doing and where was Mycroft to help him.

'Give Imogen to Gregory, Mummy and I'll make us all some tea.'

'Nonsense, that's Gregory's job.'

'He's only just had a baby!' Mycroft responded.

'Well he needs to learn to multitask. Having a baby isn't a disability.'

Her words washed over Greg as he focused entirely on Imogen, who was getting more and more restless, until the moment he couldn't stand it any more and he surged forward and went to take her from Mycroft's mother.

Violet actually held her closer, turning slightly away from Greg, 'Oh don't be so silly, darling, you should be grateful for having so much help.'

'I don't want your help,' Greg wasn't sure where that voice came from, it certainly wasn't his. It was low, feral and dangerous, 'I want my baby.'

Violet's eyes went wide and before she could respond Greg took Imogen from her, slightly more forcefully than he intended, with the result that the small baby's cries increased. He held her close to him and fled to the kitchen.

Breathing rapidly into her downy hair he apologised over and over as he tried to soothe her and prepare a bottle at the same time. A few seconds later Mycroft entered behind him.

'What are you doing?'

'Multitasking!' 

Mycroft actually took a step back at the tone of Greg's voice and lowered his eyes.

'I'll....I'll have them leave...'

He was gone through the swinging door before Greg could respond, and finally, finally Greg felt he could breathe again. He sat down with Imogen on one of the uncomfortable kitchen chairs and shook the bottle before popping the lid off with two fingers, feeling silly and proud that he could do that after only a couple of goes. As he gently offered the prepared bottle to his daughter (HIS DAUGHTER!) he could still faintly make out snatches of conversation in the other room.

'Oh darling, I'll come and stay. You clearly need help. Gregory isn't coping at all.'

'Mummy-'

'Violet,' Siger's soft voice cut in, 'It's just been-'

And then something Greg didn't catch, before.

'It's a terrible name, but at least she has your hair!'

'No-'

'Imogen Holmes...I suppose we can cope with it. But perhaps-'

And another low conversation Greg couldn't hear. But the sudden sick feeling in his stomach, and the overwhelming anger at Mycroft made him call out.

'Mycroft, can you come here a minute?'

Mycroft muttered something to his parents and then he was pushing open the door to look down at Greg, who was cradling the happily feeding Imogen. Greg ignored his doting expression.

'Do you want to tell me what you parents mean?'

'I don't under-'

'Why do they think she's yours?'

He'd said the statement in a low voice, but it clearly cut right through Mycroft. The other man paled, his eyes closed and he looked like he was trying to contain himself.

'Gregory, I...it was....they assumed and I....'

'What do you mean she isn't Mycroft's?' Violet's sharp voice cut through the kitchen. 

In Greg's arms Imogen winced at the sound and he gently soothed her.

'Mummy, can we talk about this outside,' Mycroft was already trying to steer his mother out of the room, but Violet was having none of it.

'Not his child, but living her, looked after by him, his inheritance in trust for her? And she's not even his? Well, I have to admit, I always thought you were an idiot policeman, but you're clearly sharper than we thought. You can expect to hear from-'

Who ever she expected Greg to hear from was lost by the sound of the door closing behind her as Mycroft and Siger literally trailed her out of the building.

In his arms Imogen started to cry, all interest in her breakfast gone after her fright at the shouting. He cradled her closely and climbed the stairs to his room to pack.


	30. Chapter 30

Greg was shoving his few possessions into a bag when the footsteps ran up the stairs and Mycroft literally burst in behind him, stopping wild eyed in the doorway when he saw what Greg was doing.

'....Gregory?'

But Greg was too angry to even speak to the other man yet. He held up his hand to silence him, 'Don't.'

'Where...?'

'I'm going back to my flat. I shouldn't have come here. I knew it was a mistake.'

'Don't. Please. My mother-'

'Your mother is not the problem!' Greg forced through gritted teeth, and then sighed and rammed another t shirt into his bag, 'Not the only one,' he conceded.

'But we...you can't just...' he had never seen Mycroft so panicked before and the politician's complete inability to form a full sentence went a long way to softening Greg's heart slightly.

He sighed again and turned fully around to face Mycroft.

'Look at me,' he said, and then more gently, 'Myc, look at me. I'm bleeding and leaking, I haven't showered in days. Fuck knows when the last time I slept was. I just need...somewhere I feel safe, where no one is making comments about what I'm wearing or trying to take my baby out of my arms...' he broke off and took a second to swallow down another wave of anger, knowing that particular memory was going to take a long time to go away, 'I really appreciate what you tried to do for me. But we're not ready for this.'

Mycroft couldn't have looked more broken if Greg had punched him.

'I'm not...I'm not breaking up,' he said softly, 'We agreed.'

'But you're leaving.'

'And I'll be back tomorrow. And the next day, and every day after that while we find our balance.'

He lifted his bag and glanced at Imogen, wishing he'd had the sense to bring her car seat up with him. Mycroft followed his gaze and he licked his lips almost nervously.

'I'll carry her down,' he offered and Greg nodded, walking out of the room while he still had the strength to do it.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this one - I took a bad turn and was very ill for a while and then as soon as I recovered I was back on set doing pick ups and only wrapped yesterday, so this is the first day I've had to catch up in weeks. Here's a bit of fluff to rot your teeth.

Three nights later Greg was pacing the floor of his small flat with an unsettled Imogen. True to his word he had seen Mycroft each day and despite the hopeful, almost pleading look on Mycroft's face, Greg had returned back to his own flat each night. He knew it was the right thing to do for them, but that didn't stop him feeling deflated and slightly off when he opened his door each evening.

Mycroft had taken them out for lunch that afternoon and they had shared a proud and amused glance every time a passerby stopped to admire the sleeping baby. And as they had walked slowly back through the park, taking turns to push Imogen in her state of the art pram, or 'travel system' as Mycroft insisted on calling it, Greg couldn't help but think how...nice it was. Comfortable to talk about what they would have for dinner and bicker over who was going to deal with the rather startling nappy Imogen produced.

'You're the one used to dealing with chemical weapons!' Greg had argued.

'And you have spent enough time in my brother's flat that you have surely built up an immunity to all known toxic substances,' was Mycroft's counter argument.

In the end Greg had changed her while Mycroft stood a slight distance away, his lip curled in disgust.

'We could sell that to North Korea.'

Greg let out a surprised laugh and glanced up, 'Is Mycroft Holmes making poo jokes now?'

Mycroft sniffed, 'I never joke.'

But Greg had seen the shine in his eyes and he smiled even now as he remembered it. Who would have ever imagined that the same icy and detached Mycroft Holmes he had met all those years ago would be the same one making fun off dirty nappies. Certainly not Greg. Christ, Greg couldn't have imagined the Mycroft from a year ago doing that. But then...people don't really change, that's what Sherlock says anyway. So maybe this was the Mycroft that was there all along, he just buried it so deeply that no one else gets to see it.

'Except us,' he whispered into Imogen's fine hair.

She started to whimper again, her sign that she was building up to a full on scream. She'd been the same every time they returned to the flat, and at first Greg had thought it was the new surroundings that had her unsettled, but she hadn't been unsettled when they took her out and about to new places. And eventually Greg had been forced to realise that it wasn't the surroundings, it was the people.

'I know,' he soothed as he walked, 'I miss him too.'

As he paced he used a free hand to check his phone, but there were no messages or missed calls, not even ranty texts from Sherlock. So he threw it down on the sofa and walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside to look out at the tiny bit of London he could see from his flat, which wasn't much. Brick walls and the closed shutter of the Chinese takeaway across the street. There was one of two cars parked on the road, including his own, and he glanced down to make sure it was still there. In this neighbourhood it was more likely to have been nicked than it was to still be there. But his car was still sitting where he had left it another car parked behind it.

Greg sighed and let the curtain fall back in place before returning to his pacing. He wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed, and he settled on a mixture of both. After a full fifty laps of the living room – he counted every one of them – he retrieved his phone from the sofa and after a second's hesitation he typed out a text.

'Come up.'

He hit send and started to count, feeling the smile on his face grow. He reached seven before there was a polite knock at the door to his flat and he walked over and unlocked it.

'Do you sit outside my flat all night?'

Mycroft's cheeks coloured slightly and he said nothing.

'That a bit stalkery, Myc.'

At this Mycroft realised that Greg was smiling and he allowed himself a slight twitch of his lips in return before looking to Imogen.

'Unsettled?'

Greg nodded, 'Haven't been able to get her over at all.' The he held the baby out towards Mycroft, 'Do your magic, baby whisperer.'

He watched in awe, and a tiny bit of jealousy as Mycroft soothed Imogen off to sleep in less than ten minutes after he had spent hours trying to do it.

'Well, it's clear which one of us is her favourite,' Greg said.

'I...I don't mean to-' Mycroft looked worried.

Greg just smiled at him again, and it was, he realised, a genuine smile. If it had been anyone else holding his baby at that moment he would have been riddled with jealousy and hurt, but for some reason when it was Mycroft he liked to watch them together, and the logical, policeman's mind knew he was assessing Mycroft, trying to be rational, trying to work out if this could work, if Mycroft could be trusted again, but the other part of him was already screaming 'yes' and he was struggling to keep either side from taking over.

'You look deep in thought, my dear,' Mycroft said softly so as not to wake the sleeping baby, 'Troubled?'

Greg shook his head, 'Not overly. You?'

'I find it impossible to be troubled when I find myself like this.'

'Barefoot in a damp flat in Brixton at 3am?' Greg joked.

'With you.'

Mycroft's answer was so simple that Greg didn't know what to say. But he didn't need to because Mycroft spoke again.

'Although I would rather you didn't stay here. It's not safe. Come back to Mayfair with me.'

'Westminster has the highest crime rate in the UK.' Greg recited without thinking.

'Really?' Mycroft looked genuinely suprised, 'I was not aware.'

He nodded down to Imogen, 'Shall I put her down?'

'You know where to go?' Greg asked, and then felt stupid because, unlike Mycroft's massive house, Greg's tiny flat only had one other room and there was no chance of getting lost.

As Mycroft took Imogen to her cot, Greg moved across to the kitchen area and filled the kettle for tea. He wasn't home much and so never minded that his 'kitchen' was just a little nook off the living room. But it did mean that if he cooked anything spicy the smell permeated the whole flat and lingered for days. John had complained about the same issue at Baker Street when one of Sherlock's experiments went wrong in the kitchen and he swore he could taste the smell for a week afterwards.

Mycroft came back out after moment and paused awkwardly before reaching for his disguareded jacket.

'I'll leave you to your rest,' he said quietly.

'You could always stay.'

Mycroft's face wore the same surprise that Greg felt. He hadn't expected that to come out of his mouth. 

'I...are you sure?'

'I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't.' and then, because it seemed to be the moment for truths, and frankly 3am was an hour that turned even the most sensible souls slightly giddy, Greg said, 'I miss you.'

Behind him the kettle flicked off and Greg turned back to the tea before he could say anything else to embarrass himself.

They drank their tea in comfortable silence and eventually they both climbed into bed, quiet so as not to disturb the baby sleeping in the cot by the wall. Greg was alseep almost immediately, aware only of the soft breathing of Imogen and the warm weight of Mycroft beside him, and he allowed sleep to claim him, comfortable and content.


	32. Chapter 32

Greg had slept better than he had since before Imogen was born, even if he only got a couple of hours of it before she had him up again. He was just finishing feeding her, the sky outside getting brighter and the sounds from the other flats around him and the street below increasing as others started their day. Mycroft came out of the bedroom, already dressed and immaculate but with that tiny frown on his face again.

He dropped a bag beside the sofa before heading for the kettle.

'What's that?' Greg asked him, nodding towards the bag.

'Your clothes. We're going back to Mayfair. The removal company will bring anything you want to the house. And before you start to protest, I've already terminated your lease for this flat.'

'You what?' 

'I refuse to allow Imogen to live like this. Sirens at all hours, drunks arguing on their way home, and the gentleman who lives upstairs should get his prostate checked given the number of times he used the bathroom. As soon as you are dressed we will leave, I've already called for the car.'

Well, so much for letting Greg dictate the pace of their relationship. Because he was holding Imogen Greg forced himself to remain calm at the way Mycroft had just taken over and issues his orders. He'd have been livid if it wasn't so...sexy.

'Okay,' he said, and that clearly wasn't the easy response Mycroft was expecting for he looked mildly surprised, and a little suspicious, which made Greg smile, 'But I'm not sleeping in the spare room anymore.'

Mycroft nodded and turned back to make his tea, but he wasn't quick enough to prevent Greg seeing the flash of relief on the politicians face.

#

The Mayfair house looked exactly as it had when Greg had left it a few days ago, but somehow more...empty than he remembered it. It didn't feel like a house that was lived in, and it was with a start that Greg realised that Mycroft hadn't been living in it, he'd been sitting in his car outside Greg's flat all night since Greg walked out after that awful argument with Violet.

Although he had seen Mycroft every day, this was the first time he had been back to the house, and it felt a little strange. As he was unstrapping Imogen from her car seat, there was a soft knock on the open front door and one of Mycroft's black suited minions extended a bundle of manila envelopes to Mycroft before silently disappearing again, closing the door softly behind him so as not to wake the sleeping baby.

Mycroft smiled tightly at the pile, and Greg couldn't help but feel a stab of disapointment.

'Work?'

With a slight start Mycroft focused on him, blinking rapidly as if to clear whatever thoughts he was having, and then he shook his head, 'Just a few things I asked Anthea to sort out for me this morning.'  
'Mycroft it's not even six am and you already have her working? She's gonna make your life hell, you know that, right?'

Mycroft sighed, 'She does tend to get rather creative when it comes to making her displeasure known. Still, she saw the importance of the task.'

'Anything you can talk about?' Greg knew better than to ask outright about Mycroft's operations because it pained Mycroft to lie to him.

'...ah....yes, actually,' Mycroft said, surprising Greg. He held out the bundle of envelopes to the policeman who looked at them in confusion.

'What's this?'

'Copies of all the relevant paperwork for your own records. Your solicitor, as well as my own, naturally have copies, and the originals are here in the safe.'

'Sounds a bit overkill, Myc,' Greg said as he opened the first envelope, '….what am I looking at?'

'When she was born I had a trust fund created for her to safeguard her future.'

'You what?'

'Regardless of our...regardless of our relationship prospects at the time, I wanted to ensure that she was looked after.'

Greg's eyes scanned the document, 'And how much did – holy fuck!'

For a long moment Greg's brain went completely offline, and then he looked at Imogen who was fast asleep and blissfully unaware that at a week old she had more money than Greg had earned in his entire life.

'Myc I can't-'

'It's not for you, it's for her.' Mycroft was firm, using that tone he used to get what he wanted.

'And so what's in these ones?'

'A copy of my will-'

'Why would I need that?'

'Peace of mind?'

'I....not very comforting thinking about you dying.'

Mycroft gave him a wry smile.

'And this one?' Greg held up the last envelope which was thicker than the others.  
'I took the liberty of adding your name to the deeds to the property.'

At this Greg's legs threatened to give way below him and he just gaped at Mycroft, unable to form words. Mycroft seemed to take his silence as agreement and he started towards the kitchen.

'Tea?'

Greg glanced at Imogen again, and then called after Mycroft, 'Think I'm gonna need something stronger than tea, Myc!'


	33. Chapter 33

ONE YEAR LATER

Imogen pulled a face when Mycroft offered her a spoonful of pureed apple and then laughed and opened her mouth.

'Minx.'

He smiled as he fed her another spoonful, still slightly overwhelmed by the sheer love he had for her. He'd only ever felt that way for two other people in his whole life - Gregory and Sherlock. But he'd never wanted children, and now he couldn't imagine not having her in his life. And didn't think he could ever show Gregory how grateful he was for allowing him to be part of hers.

'Well, how do I look?'

Gregory came into the kitchen in his work suit, looking nervous.

'Magnificent.'

'You're full of shit,' Gregory grinned back at him.

Despite Mycroft's suggestions otherwise, Gregory had been determined to go back to work at the end of his leave, although he was phasing it in part time for the first few weeks.

'And how is my favourite person?' he said as he bent down to kiss the top of Imogen's head. She smiled at him and held up her much loved stuffed duck. He obliged and kissed the duck too which appeased his daughter, 'So what are you two up to today?'

'We're going to see the ducks,' Mycroft whispered the last word but Imogen heard it anyway and got very animated, babbling loudly and shaking her stuffed duck.

In the way that small children do, Imogen had developed an immediate and consuming fascination with ducks, which was definitely preferable to Sherlock's childhood fascination with bees. Her babbles had started to include sounds that MIGHT be words she was trying to say, and 'duck', well, versions of, featured very highly. Sherlock's first word had been 'Myc', something which Sherlock denies and which Mycroft still treasures.

'You just had to say the D word,' Gregory shook his head in mock disappointment, 'What sort of parent are you?'

Mycroft froze for a second and then looked up at Gregory who seemed to have realised what he had said and was looking slightly worried.

Parent.

Mycroft had never allowed himself to think of himself in that way because he was terrified that if he allowed it then somehow it would be worse if it was taken away from him.

'Well...if that's...okay.' Gregory looked down at the floor for a second, 'I mean, I know we haven't really talked about it, but, honestly, but you are as much of parent to her as I am. You're definitely her favourite,' he smiled. Gregory made that joke often, but when Imogen was upset or ill it was Mycroft that she usually wanted, something which Gregory had found funny rather than upsetting - especially when it Mycroft who had to walk the floor for hours when she got her first tooth, and when it was Mycroft being vomited on by a sick baby.

'...I...' Mycroft fed Imogen, who was unaware of the importance of the conversation going on around her, but was getting impatient for the next spoonful of apple, 'Are you sure?' was all Mycroft could manage.

Gregory nodded, untensing slightly, 'I've been thinking about it a lot recently and...well it's true, isn't it? And she's gonna start talking soon and it doesn't seem right if you are 'Mycroft' to her, unless that's what you'd prefer her to call you.....?' Gregory looked uncertain again.

Mycroft slowly shook his head, 'No.' he whispered, 'I don't.'

Gregory suddenly smiled, his huge bright smile, all the tension gone from his body. He leaned down and kissed Mycroft hard.

'Shit, I have to go!'

And then he dropped a feather light kiss on top of Imogen's head.

'Have fun at the park.' he said, 'And you be good for your dad.'

He was out the door before Mycroft could process what he'd said, and then the politician sat there in stunned silence for a moment before Imogen started banging on the tray of her highchair and shaking her duck at him.


	34. Chapter 34

He would recognise the figure coming towards them anywhere, he knew the gait and the frame because he'd known it all his life. His hands tightened on the handles and he contemplated turning around and going in another direction. But no, Mycroft Holmes never runs away from anything, so he straightened up and walked on.

As they got closer the other man seemed to realise who Mycroft was and his steps faltered slightly. Even so, it was only a few moments before they met each other.

'Mycroft!'

'Father.' 

There was a moment of complete stillness, not quite a standoff, but not from it.

'How have you been?' Siger asked.

'Well.'

They had only spoken a handful of times in the last twelve months, each time cordial but strained. What made it worse was that Mycroft knew his father was trying hard, he wasn't like his mother at all in that respect.

And only then did Siger even acknowledge the pushchair Mycroft was steering.

'Is that -'

'Imogen, yes.' Mycroft felt his defences rise further.

'She's grown.'

'Yes.'

Imogen had been staring up at Siger with considered interest, and in complete silence, a gesture she had learned from Mycroft. Siger seemed to realise this too because he gave the slightest of sad smiles.

'Are you on your way somewhere?' he asked hopefully.

'Visiting the ducks,' Mycroft's response was offered reluctantly.

If this surprised Siger then he didn't let it show. Instead he nodded, 'I should let you get on your way then.'

He was just stepping away when Mycroft startled himself by speaking, 'Would you like to come with us?'

#

Imogen was practically vibrating with excitement as Mycroft lifted her out of her pushcair and set her down on the padded blanket in front of the bench where Siger was sitting and watching Mycroft intereact with Imogen.

The shouts and squawks from the baby as they walked up to their resting place had already attracted the attention of the residents of the lake and much to Mycroft's amusement, and sense of superiority, they had a following of several ducks and a couple of geese by the time stopped. Mycroft was not as fond of the geese, and Imogen seemed intimidated by their size, but she tolerated them as honorary ducks because they were Regent's Park geese and well used to small children stroking them and put up with it in return for the possibility of a bit of stale scone.

Immediately that he set Imogen down was swamped. At this Siger jumped up alarmed, but Mycroft held out an arm to stop him, indicating with a tilt of his head to pay attention and then he threw a handful of feed into the group slightly away from Imogen and it turned into one mass of scrabbling feathers with Imogen sitting on the outside, clapping her hands and screaming with laughter.

'They have adopted her as their leader,' Mycroft repeated the phrase Gregory had used about the same ducks just a few days ago, and he was pleased when his father let out a small huff of laughter.

'Quite right too,' Siger said, 'But it is safe.'

'Of course. The trick is to keep the feed just far enough away from Imogen that she won't be overwhelmed.....or eat it.' That had been an unfortunate experience and a lesson well learned.

For the next hour they sat together watching Imogen, occasionally speaking to ask questions, but generally in compatible silence. His father had never been the talker in the family, but the questions he asked eventually came around to Mycroft's home life.

'Are you and Gregory still-'

'Yes,' Mycroft nodded more forcefully than he had intended.

'And Imogen?'

'My position on that has not and will not change.'

Siger considered this, 'And where is Gregory today?'

'Work.'

'He went back?' Siger seemed surprised.

'Of course.'

'I just....you mother said that he -'

'Mummy said a lot of things,' Mycroft reminded him, to which at least Siger had the grace to look embarrassed about, 'I can assure that Gregory is not freeloading.

And that was a topic that had caused some amount of arguments. It had taken a while for Gregory stop feeling awkward about their vastly different incomes, and he still had some deep rooted insecurities about it. But they were getting there, and going back to work had always been important to him, not just because he loved his job, but for the self worth it gave him and the knowledge that he was contributing something to the household, even it was miniscule compared to Mycroft's wealth. Mycroft was patient, knowing this was going to be a long process, but for now he was happy when the statement for their joint account showed that Gregory had indeed used the card Mycroft had given him. Even though to date this had only amounted to pay-per-view sports which tended to coincide with payments to somewhere called the Peking Palace. Still, it was a start.

Having realised the feed was gone the ducks started to disperse which was usually the cue to them to leave. 

A red face and still smiling Imogen babbled in a very serious tone as Mycroft lifted her, and then stopped and stared at him questioningly. 

'You're correct, as always.' he responded in the same grave tone, and this seemed to please Imogen who allowed herself to be strapped in with less fuss than usual.

Mycroft packed up their things and then looked at his father, 'Would you like some tea?'

But Siger shook his head, 'I'm meeting your mother after her appointment and then we're going straight to the station. It's bridge night.'

'Very well.'

'It was lovely to see you. Both of you,' he smiled at Imogen who regarded him with suspicion.'

Mycroft walked back the way he had came, feeling somewhat more at peace than he had that morning, and completely unaware of the thoughtful expression on the face of his father as he watched him walk away.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter - i do have a sequel in the works but will hold off posting it for a while as I finish up the rest of my on going fics.

Greg let himself into the house he shared with Mycroft to be greeted by the sounds of Italian opera coming from the kitchen. He moved through the house in silence and as he peeked through the open kitchen door he couldn't stop the smile.

Mycroft was in the middle of cooking pasta while Imogen was in her high chair. Mycroft was using the wooden spoon as a conductor would use his baton and Imogen was copying him with her purple plastic spoon, waving it in the air with a look of utter seriousness. 

As Greg watched Mycroft's actions became more exaggerated and as the music built to a crescendo he waved his arms wildly, copied by Imogen. When the song finished Mycroft bowed very seriously towards his daughter who clapped and banged her spoon on the tray and then...

'Da!'

Mycroft jerked upright, suddenly self conscious.

'Gregory!'

Greg grinned at him, 'Some performance.'

Mycroft assumed his most haughty expression, 'One should appreciate the classics and it's important that Imogen learns to understand the natural cadence of opera in order to-'

He was cut off by the kiss Greg gave him.

'You are adorable,' the policeman whispered, making Mycroft blush deeper and turn back to the pasta.

Imogen held up her arms to be lifted and Greg obliged, sweeping her up.

'I missed you today,' he said to her, and was rewarded with a smack in the mouth with a stuffed duck, 'I missed you both,' he said, with a glance over his shoulder to Mycroft.

'And how was your first day back?' Mycroft asked, reaching for the onion salt.

'Lots of forms,' Greg admitted, 'Paperwork, signing things, reading up on new procedures.' he pulled a face, 'Not really what I became a policeman for. Can't wait to get back to proper work. How was your day?'

'...good.'

'Myc?'

'We ran into my father at the park.'

'Shit. How did that go?'

Mycroft turned towards his partner and Greg could see the conflicted expression.

'It was....nice.'

Greg didn't say it, but he'd always like Mycroft's dad. His mother was another story though.

'We spent the afternoon together. I....Imogen seems fond of him.'

'She's a good judge of character.'

Mycroft looked at a loss for words after that statement and turned back to the pot again.

Imogen patted Greg on the cheek and babbled something in her serious voice and then stared at him intently for several seconds before laughing. Greg couldn't help his own laugh.

'You are such a strange little thing,' he said to his daughter.

'She gets that from you,' Mycroft teased looking over his shoulder.

'I'm not the one she gets that expression from. I swear when it comes to disproving looks some of your colleagues have nothing on Imogen.'

Mycroft gave him a slight smile, and Greg froze, an overwhelming feeling making the blood rush in his ears. He was standing in a pristine kitchen that was bigger than his old flat, every appliance and feature modern and expensive, the cabinets and counters sleek and spotless and minimalist...except for the blobby finger 'paintings' of Imogen's that were stuck to the fridge. And there was Mycroft, Mycroft Bloody Holmes, the most powerful man in the country barefoot, wearing an orange apron and grating cheese into a pot of pasta, his shirt sleeves pushed up out of the way and his hair a mess.And there was Imogen, a mix of wide grins and serious frowns and endless cuddles and. And....and this was IMPORTANT. This moment. This very moment, he knew it, something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to pay attention. He looked at Mycroft, who happened to glance around at the same time.

Greg stopped smiling, overwhelmed by what he was feeling, and then he was suddenly full of a sort of tranquility.

'Mycroft,' he said softly, 'Let's get married.'


End file.
